Cogitationis
by LeslieSophia
Summary: Reddington may have whipped the Post Office into a frenzy, but to Donald Ressler, it was Elizabeth Keen that had given him that kickstart to his life... Non-chronological one-shots from episodes of all seasons, missing scenes, etc. Will include all characters at some point, featuring Keenler because we all need more of that in our lives. *Spoilers* Mostly AU with some canon
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing

She came into his life by storm, helicopters and overzealous agents, eager to get a taste of the field after years cooped up in the office, drawing imaginary lines to random events.

He caught her on her front stoop, standing close to whom he had to assume was her husband, framed by a beautiful brownstone, the kind he had once imagined himself living in with a small family.

Reddington may have whipped the Post Office into a frenzy, but to Donald Ressler, it was Elizabeth Keen that had given him that kickstart to his life. The last person to have done so was Audrey. But hers had been more of a gentle spark, warming his life and filling it with optimism and glowing hope. This one, however, was like a punch to the face, a whirlwind of brunette and blue eyes, drawing dangerous crackles of electricity, something that set him on edge, restless to no end. Maybe it was the fact that after five years of nothing, she had come in unexpectedly and somehow managed to pull everything in with her. Fresh out of Quantico, and not necessarily for the better. Somehow, she had convinced the Assistant Director that not arresting the object of the better part of Ressler's career while he stood (or rather sat smugly) in the very palm of the FBI's hands was a good idea. Instead, they were now serving at the criminal's pleasure, fetching these so-called Blacklisters for him and just short of aiding Reddington in his underground dealings.

Perhaps that was why he adopted such a stand-offish manner with her. It irked him to no end that Reddington would only speak to her, that Cooper answered to her every request. She had, in a way, taken Ressler's house away from him. So sure, he had some right to be pissed at the situation (because somehow, he couldn't bring himself to actually be pissed at her.)

But deep, deep down, in a place where he buried the feelings and thoughts he couldn't bear to acknowledge, he admired her. There was something about Keen that captivated his attention, not just as an attractive member of the opposite gender, but as a co-worker to be watched, to learn from. Her self-assurance and the relative ease in which she operated within his blacksite was the beginning mark of a good agent. A reliable partner after years of riding solo. Not only did he feel a magnetic pull to her physical attractiveness, he was equally as intrigued by her fiery stubbornness that could almost rival his. Yes, there was definitely something about Keen that drew Ressler in, which was also a likely reason why he took pains to distance himself from her, not only physically, but mentally. To establish a distance and make it clear that he didn't approve of her being there.

Even then, when he saw how gentle Keen was with the Admiral's daughter, he felt himself soften unwittingly. He could truly believe that she would make a quality agent, as long as she wasn't in his Post Office and practicing that psych nonsense all over the place.

When their convoy was ambushed, he watched as the SUV carrying Keen and Beth overturn, his heart plummeting, and it wasn't because he was losing men and had fallen victim to the trap. All he could think of was getting to that SUV as he took out one of the men in the Hazmat suits. He bolted in the direction of the SUV, tossing away the automatic weapon as he ran between the stopped vehicles on the bridge, pulling out his own sidearm, firing one true and fatal shot to the man about to fire in to the side of the overturned SUV. It wasn't until he had surfaced from the water, searching frantically for Keen that he realized that it wasn't Beth that had been on his mind the entire time, but the other Elizabeth. He had panicked a little when he couldn't find another head bobbing in the water- he himself had barely made it over the edge of the railing before the explosion, there was no way she could have survived on the bridge-

"Ressler!" A voice rang out from above and he turned quickly to the sound. There she was, one side of her face completely bloodied, but she was standing, learning over the railing, looking down at him. Instantly the panic (he later attributed it to the adrenaline when he was thinking over this moment back in his apartment) faded and he heard the faint wail of sirens begin in the distance. All Ressler could do was turn away from Keen's brokenhearted face and follow her stare in the direction of the boats carrying Beth away, just a speck now on the waterline.

Thanks for reading! Reviews, criticisms (not hate, though) gladly accepted! PM me with requests


	2. Is This Pee?

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything

There is nothing like waking up under the weight of a small dog, cuddling to its own, but it's a completely different story when that small dog also happens to be jumping up and down between its two owners, rousing them from what used to be a peaceful sleep, tangling himself in the bedsheets.

"Whoa- Hudson! Easy there, dude."

Liz laughed lightly at the grumbling coming from next to her as she stretched to look at her alarm clock.

"Oh no. Ohh no." She groaned as Hudson bounded off the bed and out of the room. She stared at her alarm clock in dismay, which was blinking 12:00 AM in almost a mocking manner in the rays of the morning sun. Rays that were much too strong for the time that she was _supposed_ to be waking up at. A warm, human weight settled drowsily back into her side, an arm snaking across her waist. She groped blindly for her phone on the nightstand before realizing that she had left it in the kitchen to charge the night before.

"What is it?" He mumbled into her back, still half-asleep. Liz flipped around, accidentally smacking him in the cheek with her desperate hand.

"What time is it?" She demanded frantically, dreading the answer as she snatched his wrist up to check his watch, "Oh crap!" She vaulted off the bed and bolted toward the bathroom, causing him to groan and flop his arm onto her vacated spot on the bed.

"What's the matter?" He called after her, squinting at his watch.

"It's my first day!" She wailed, diving into the shower.

"Hey, you okay? You need help?" He asked but she didn't have to vocalize an answer. She knew he would start the coffee and make the toast and feed Hudson since she was running so late today. It wasn't necessarily that she was late often, but more that he just knew her so well.

She showered and brushed her teeth at max speed, trying to get dressed at the same time she was drying her hair before running into the kitchen to grab her toast and apply her makeup in the hall mirror.

"I got your coffee!" He called from the kitchen and she hurried to the sound of his voice to grab her thermos. Then she felt it. A lukewarm wetness, spreading from her toes to the arch of her foot.

Liz placed her hands on the counter, lifting her foot up, she spoke slowly, "Is this pee?" And finally, a wave (more like a truckload) of déjà vu hit her.

But it all disappeared when a set of steady arms wrapped around her from behind, trapping her between the counter and his enticingly warm chest, taking away her panic as he trailed his nose down her neck and nudged the collar of her shirt away to press a kiss to her collarbone, "It's water from Hudson's water dish," he mumbled against her skin.

Liz gave a laugh and quickly followed it with a sigh. She turned around and took his face in her hands, "You're the best. Thank you for making the coffee and toast, but I really have to go." She kissed him lightly but when she tried to pull away, his lips followed hers and he drew her back to his chest.

"Not yet," he mumbled and she felt his voice vibrate deliciously in his chest.

"Babe, my class is going to be waiting for me. It's a bad first impression." Liz said against his lips.

"Liz, they already know you. Your face was all over the news for the past year and then some. They'll just think you're late because of some illegal meet up. It'll be exciting for them."

She flattened her hands against his firm chest and inhaled his cologne that she always teased him about but secretly loved, "You mean, instead of making out with a morning grouch of a FBI agent?" She pulled away and bent down to peel off her wet socks.

"Hey, I'm interesting and exciting too! And it's _Special_ Agent." He protested, dodging the socks she threw at him.

"Ressler, babe, seriously. We need to leave now." Liz plucked his carefully placed suit jacket off the back of a chair and tossed it to him, picking up her thermos with her other hand.

He caught it deftly and led the way out of his apartment, car keys already in hand, "Soon, you'll be able to quit this lecturing job and we can avoid the long commute to the college and wake up later to go to the Post Office, a convenient short drive away from my apartment."

"It's called teaching, Ressler, and I might actually like it." Liz pointed out but he only raised a doubtful eyebrow at her, "fine," she conceded, "I miss you and Samar, Cooper and Aram but this might be the next natural step for me as a profiler."

He snorted, but not unkindly, "I'll tell Aram you think of him every once in a while still. He'll be over the moon."

Liz smacked his arm reproachfully as they began their descent down the stairs to the parking garage, "You never know, this teaching gig could actually be really good… and fun. I enjoyed it those times I guest lectured at those conferences and it does have nice hours. I mean, what else am I going to do until Reddington comes back or Reven reinstates me?"

Ressler raised the key to his FBI issued SUV as the rear of the car came into view but before he could push the button to unlock it, Liz stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Babe, do you see that?" She asked quietly, peering into the car.

Ressler squinted, trying to see through the tinted windows, "Someone's in there," He murmured and drew his weapon. Liz reached for hers, also, until she realized that as a teacher, she had no reason to be armed. Groaning internally, she had no choice but to follow Ressler as he wove between cars. When they got closer, he motioned for her to stay back. Any argument would be futile, she knew she would only get in the way, unarmed. So she watched anxiously from behind another car as Ressler came up behind the SUV and shouted for whomever was inside to come out with their hands up. At the same time, a broad figure stepped out of the shadows from a little behind Ressler.

"Dembe," Liz let out a breath of relief and exasperation as she came around the car when she saw that Reddington's bodyguard was unarmed also. Ressler didn't even spare her a glance as he kept his sidearm pointed at the opening car door which was accompanied by a familiar chuckle.

"You know, I've never been a fan of big vehicles, but your SUV is really quite comfortable."

Ressler lowered his gun, "Reddington," He said begrudgingly. Liz walked quickly up to them.

"Lizzie. Donald." Reddington nodded to them, beaming in such a smug way that it was hard for Liz to feel any sort of relief at his presence.

Ressler cast a look down at Liz, "Babe, I don't think you need to go teach anymore."


	3. Systems

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

**SPOILERS FOR ZAL BIN HASAAN

Donald Ressler was a man that believed in systems. He had a system for everything he did; his morning routine, his daily workouts, evening routines, cooking, even feeding Liz's dog, Hudson. He followed a system when he was at work, hell, his work was within THE system. He kicked his drug addiction in the NA system. He believed Elizabeth Keen would be exonerated through the system.

But Liz… She never fully working within any system. In fact, she almost always operated best outside of a system. She was the one that had started to point out the flaws and pick apart his systems, whether it was intentional or not. And he hadn't decided if it was something that he liked yet. Her sometimes blatant disregard for systems was probably one of the things that really caught his attention in the beginning and kept him coming back to her.

Not to say that he was a big fan of everyone who didn't use a system. Tom Keen's constant violations of the systems? Well, it was suffice to say that it was one of the points where the men didn't get along on. There was no denying that Tom and Cooper had a good approach to exonerating Liz, but there was a very unlikely chance that it would stand up when brought to the officials. And that was what really mattered, not that they had a way to, but that the way would deliver all the way through. So when he walked into Cooper's home to share his accomplishments that day and being one step closer to bringing Liz home, he was unashamedly proud. Of course, Tom crushed that instantaneously and Cooper's betrayal had definitely stung.

But then again, the Director had gotten himself kicked out of the Post Office, which was proof that the system would work in its own time.

Still, nothing would make up for the fact that Tom Keen had been in Cooper's home, forcing Ressler to finally acknowledge that Tom was still as committed to Liz as ever before and showed no signs of leaving on that stupid little boat of his. With Tom still in the picture, he rightfully had the first claim to Liz, being her ex-husband, however twisted their relationship had been. That man had to be delusional to think that Liz would take him back after all the spying and betrayal, but then again, Liz had agreed to meet with Tom who knows how many times, whereas she had never succumbed to Ressler's pleas for her to come home. And that shattered the agent's heart.

So yes, he had acted out like a jealous little schoolboy with the barely contained rage of an alpha male. And yes, he had tried to contain himself somewhat if not for the sake of Cooper's dignity and Charlene's peace of mind.

Tom had stolen Ressler's thunder at Cooper's house with his smug little smile, the fugitive bastard leaning comfortably against the doorway in the former Assistant Director's home. He even had the nerve to stand there and say he was helping Liz, after everything the imposter had put her through, the heartbreak in their marriage, the endless spying for the entirety of their relationship, jeopardizing her career, her life… and then taunt Ressler about doing nothing? Ressler had done _everything_ to bring her home. He'd almost gotten himself killed in front of the Russian embassy and was one trigger squeeze away from starting a war on Russian territory. If that wasn't breaking away from his systems, he didn't know what was.

He only wished he had gotten in more punches before Cooper had broken them up. And really, that garden gnome should've been Tom's head.

So he slumped back to the Post Office, praying that Aram wouldn't take one look at his face and try to hug him again, because really, he was at the end of his rope and would probably just break down there and then and sob into the younger man's shoulder. And Ressler was fairly certain that Aram couldn't support his body weight, much less his emotional turmoil.

Then he had spotted Samar in the office, looking just as alone and heartbroken as he was feeling. He didn't expect to screw her later, in fact that was the very last thing on his mind when he went in to check on her. All he knew was that she was weighed down by loss and betrayal and those were two feelings he could definitely relate to. For her, it was her brother's lies and Levi, whom she had obviously shared a history with. For him, it was like he lost Liz a little bit more every day, but today, it was as if she was at the point of no return, tearing a big hole in him, bigger than Audrey's death ever had. One that couldn't ever be fixed by anyone but Elizabeth Keen. And Tom was laughing at him in the distance, with Cooper at his side.

Liz had entered his life, forbidden to him by her marriage, and when that had ended, Ressler had been too scared to break out of his systems to take his chance with her. He thought he had all the time in the world. Be he didn't.

 _Here and now._

Now it was too late.

Rationally speaking, it made sense to sleep with Samar. They both could trust each other to keep it separate from their work, from their emotions. She was in the same state of loss as he was, it only made sense that they both needed to not be alone that night. There would be no feelings, no morning after, just an in-the-moment release from the current stress and frustration.

He and Liz used to seek each other out after a long day on the job, when they couldn't bear to be alone for the night, but this was different between him and Samar. It was personal, almost intimate with Liz, but with Samar, it would no doubt be business, impersonal.

And he was completely fine with that.

But even though it as supposed to help him forget the small figure of brunette locks and piercing blue eyes (at least for the night, Elizabeth Keen would always be on his mind) all he could do was think about Liz. If only it were Liz instead of Samar, it was supposed to be Liz the very first time after Audrey, and he couldn't help but feel guilty, no matter how impersonal this fucking was, as if he were cheating on Liz. Even if she was back with Tom. Maybe Ressler was the delusional one.

"They would want this, for us." Were the only words that Samar offered the whole night after they had left the office and Ressler knew that she understood the situation he same way he did. A purely biological act, not to be mentioned or thought of as otherwise, they were substitutes for the other's object of grief.

 _Here and now._

Liz wouldn't have wanted him to be alone.

So he continued to break his systems.

For her. Until she could be his now.

 _So yes, please feel free to rant about that last episode because I actually almost went crazy. I actually skipped all the way to the end when I found out what happens so some of this might be out of order. I'm going to go back and rewatch the whole thing now. Then I rationalized it all out for myself and it made me feel better so hopefully this helps you too. If not, I have a fluffy oneshot set in the future coming up really soon so we can all recover…_

 _I really hope this wasn't too much rambling but I really needed to get this all out after watching the episode. The only redeeming quality was the hella sexy fight between Tom and Ressler._

 _BTW I'm totally not a Tom-hater I just ship Keenler more than I do Keen2_

 _Love to all you who reviewed and followed! Thank you_


	4. Shattered Glass and Mobsters

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the strong desire to see Keenler play out on the show.

 **Set in Season 2, sometime in between episodes.**

"He's headed east on Swann Street!" Aram anxiously reported from his post in a FBI surveillance van disguised as a flower delivery van.

"I've got eyes!" Ressler shouted into the comms and Liz slipped into an alleyway to cut over to the next street where Ressler had been stationed. They had been chasing this man, Mavers, for days, first attempting to track him from the Post Office for a week, then finally in person; in cars, on boat, on foot, even Reddington tried to get him with his jet. And now, they were so close. They had been tracking the newest Blacklister, Genevieve Sorenson, that Reddington had been hinting about, a woman who kidnapped young women and boys and moved them through prostitution rings under the guise of working boys and girls to deliver intel and contracts between mobs and cartels across the East Coast. In a sense, she was running the underground of the underground. This man they were pursuing was the only living link that they could find to Sorenson.

"Ressler, where are you?" Liz panted as she turned out of the alleyway and onto Swann, weaving between shoppers and other locals, out to enjoy the crisp autumn air before the weather turned bitter.

"Still eastbound on Swann!" Ressler's voice came out crackly over Liz's radio. She caught a glimpse of her partner's fair head up ahead and began to shove people out of her way more aggressively.

"Coming through! Excuse me,-"She struggled against the flow of the crowd as she came into a particularly clogged up intersection, "FBI! _Move!_ " She brought her radio up to her mouth, "Samar! Can you cut him off?"

Her radio crackled again as she bounded across the street, eliciting angry honks from the cars swerving to avoid her, "I'm trying, but there's too much traffic," Samar replied, her frustration evident even through the static of the radio.

 _Damn right,_ Liz thought as she nearly tripped over a stroller, "Sorry, " she gasped at the alarmed mother, but it came out in a strangled breath and Liz was gone before the woman could even process what had just happened. She could hear Ressler's deep voice demanding the man to stop, but obviously to no avail.

"Agent Keen, if you take a right at that street in front of you, you might be able to cut him off. They're running straight into some kind of an event that will slow them down. It should give you enough time to go around,-"

"Copy that," Liz gasped into the radio, taking a hard turn and almost getting run over by a bicyclist.

"Watch it, lady!" He yelled after her, but Liz didn't bother to respond. There was a terrible stitch in her side and she was beginning to regret not spending that extra hour at the gym. Taking a hard left, she caught sight of Samar's SUV, stuck in traffic, as reported. Liz repeated her mantra of, "FBI! Out of the way!" Even though it was next to useless on the narrow sidewalk. When she turned the corner, she saw the promised even that Aram had mentioned. A thick throng of people were gathered in front of a bar, celebrating some trivial thing or another. Even part of the street was blocked off and filled with people.

"FBI! Coming through!" Liz yelled, but she could hardly be heard through the music and chatter. Fearing that she had already lost them, she shouted into her radio, trying to push through the semi-buzzed people, "Aram, where are they?"

"They're ten years away, there appears to be an opening in the crowd,-"

 _Damn._ Someone had spilled their drink down the side of her jacket.

"What the hell-?" The woman snapped, but Liz fixed her with a cool stare, gingerly lifting her jacket out of the way to flash her badge.

"FBI." She said unnecessarily and the woman quickly turned away.

Liz finally broke out of the first crowd and spotted the disturbance in the second crowd, signaling Ressler and Mavers' arrival, "There are too many civilians here in close range, have HRT cover the exits around this block, "Liz commanded but she didn't have time to hear Aram's "copy," because the suspect was bursting out of the crowd.

"Stop right there!" Liz yelled, but he charged straight at her, using his momentum to tackle her down before she could draw her firearm. She grunted as her shoulder made contact with the ground, hard, and brought her elbow down on his back, followed by a hard kick to his midsection, dislodging herself from underneath him at the same time. She rolled away and scrambled up and grappled for her sidearm, but he was already up and in a mid-lunge for her again. This time, she was more prepared as she ducked his first punch, fastening her hands on his shoulders and bringing her knee up to his torso but he grabbed her leg and flipped her onto the ground, taking the opportunity to pull a short knife from his jacket as she struggled to her feet again.

Then there was a blur of dark navy and bright hair in front of Liz, followed by the sharp twinkling of shattered glass and screams as Liz turned away, arms up to shield her face from the sharp fragments.

"Ressler!" Liz yelled, unholstering her gun and stepping cautiously toward the heap of bodies now lying in the middle of what used to be a quaint window display but was now reduced to crushed tables and strewn petals amid shards of glass, "Get back!" She ordered the civilians as they began to edge forward, she turned briefly to flash her badge. Of course her partner had tackled the suspect through a storefront window, it was such a classic Donald Ressler thing to do.

"Ressler, talk to me!" Liz said, approaching the window, crunching on glass bits.

The agent stirred on top of the suspect, carefully righting himself, "He's out," the, almost like a hasty afterthought, "'M fine."

Liz just snorted, and raised her radio to her mouth, "We're going to need EMT's and local PD here, Aram. The threat has been neutralized, you can call off HRT. We got him."

"Agent Keen!" Samar was running toward them, a handful of FBI agents trailing behind her. Liz waved her off with and assurance that both she and her fellow agent were all right. Samar just raised her eyebrow at the broken glass but wordlessly turned away to begin blocking off the area. Two agents walked past Liz to help Ressler secure Mavers and take him into custody. Liz holstered her gun and turned back to see her partner stepping gingerly and noticeable unsteadily out of the wreckage and she hurried to give him a hand.

He tried to shake her off but in pulling away from her outstretched hand only threw him off balance, "I'm find, Keen." He repeated unconvincingly.

"You just tackled a man through a storefront window and you have a bump the size of Jupiter on your head. It's okay to be a little out of it at this point." She told him, leading him to the nearest ambulance. Samar had gotten a yellow tape perimeter around the area but it only worked to draw more attention to the scene as more and more locals gathered around to goggle at what was probably the most exciting thing that they had witnessed in the last five years. Liz subtly positioned herself in front of Ressler to shield him as much as possible from stares of the onlookers as the paramedic checked him out.

"He certainly has a knack for shattering glass with his head, doesn't he?"

Liz turned to see the Mossad agent standing to her left, regarding their fellow male agent with a bemused expression. Liz sighed, "Well, he has a hard head," _Thankfully,_ she wanted to add but bit it back.

"Hey," Ressler said gruffly, but his stern tone was spoiled by his wince as the paramedic began to clean a particularly nasty cut along his temple.

Samar hummed in agreement with Liz, "I'm going to take Mavers back to the Post Office, but I'll hold off questioning until you guys get there."

"Thanks, Samar." Liz said and Ressler grunted his assent.

The paramedic began to run preliminary concussion tests on Ressler, who looked at Liz through raised eyebrows, "You can go back first, you know. I've got it under control here, Keen."

"I'm fine where I am, thanks." Liz replied coolly, crossing her arms. Ressler grimaced, a "suit yourself," kind of expression but Liz knew all too well of his tendency to downplay his injuries and she wasn't about to make that any easier for him by leaving before hearing the medical verdict on his wounds. After a few minutes, the paramedic released Ressler with a concussion-free declaration and a pointed suggestion that he should be monitored in case he exhibited any otherwise symptoms. Ressler brushed him off with a short, "thanks," but Liz took her time to share a look and with and thank the paramedic.

"You're lucky, you know? Most people that go through a glass display window don't end up with only a few cuts and bruises and they usually don't have such a big audience either." She told him, referring to the awestruck locals who had since dissipated.

Ressler shot her a side look, "You're welcome," he said deliberately.

"Excuse me?" Liz faced him incredulously once they reached their car.

"I saved your life," Ressler said, fishing for the keys in his pocket.

She scoffed, "I would say _life_ ,-"

"Okay, I saved your face from a beating and my own perfect one paid the price." Ressler amended, not even bothering to hide his grin.

"Wow, okay, well then sit your perfect little face back because I'm driving." Liz snatched the keys from his hand and marched around to the driver's side, slamming her door shut with exaggerated force.

"For the record," Ressler shut his door considerably softer than she did, "I think you have a very pretty face. I was just trying to protect it."

Liz shot him a glare but found it very hard to keep her smile off her face so she busied herself with sticking the keys into the ignition.

She almost missed his mumble, "Just sayin'."

}+{+}{+}{+}+{

"He doesn't know anything," Liz sighed as she lead the way into her and Ressler's shared office, "if he did, he would've flipped already. Three hours with Samar, then two more with us? We'll have to get Reddington involved if we want to know every bit of intel he ever came across in his life but I'm sure he's told us more than he actually knows he did. Mavers seems pretty low on the food chain and there's no way Sorenson gave him anything that he knows of that will lead us to her."

Ressler gripped the back of his chair while he watched Liz drop herself down onto hers and cover her face with her hands, "I think he's just holding out on us until he hears a better deal."

She peeked at her partner through her fingers, "There is no better deal. Unless we just let him walk. Sorenson could already be moving a shipment of kidnapped children, or delivering another contract. "

"Maybe we should just call reinforcements then." Ressler suggested slowly and Liz's head shot straight out of her hands to look at him in surprise.

"You hate calling Reddington for help." She said, as if reminding him of his obvious distaste for the criminal.

Ressler straightened up, "What I hate, is being stuck her for weeks on end, chasing pointless leads. I would hate to go back to square one after spending so much time on this one case. Besides, he brought this to our attention and he always has some sort of insight into these kinds of things."

"So you don't actually sleep here like everyone says," Liz teased, an easy smile gracing her tired face. It widened a little more when she saw it reflected in her partner's equally fatigued demeanor.

"Just call him. And don't let him drown you in his usual bullshit!" Ressler added over his shoulder as he left the office to give her some privacy.

Smiling to herself, Liz pulled her phone out of her pocket and hit the designated speed dial. The line rang for a perfunctory two rings until it was answered. Liz spoke first, the routine automatic for her now.

"Dembe. Put him on for me, please." There was a pause, then-

"Lizzie! You will _not_ believe who I am with right now! Tell me, what is your stance on Impressionist art? We can't decide whether or not to confiscate it or just destroy it on the spot. Which would be more spiteful to say, the French Mafia?"

Liz stood straight up from her chair, causing it to spin recklessly away, and looked out to the bull pen where Ressler was gathered with Samar at Aram's work station. He spotted Liz's reaction instantly and hurried back to the office, followed by Samar and Aram.

"You're with Sorenson right now?" Liz hissed into her phone. She watched Ressler as he crossed his arms and an irritated look fell across his face at being played by Reddington again.

"Hm. Meet me at our park. One hour." There was a click, then silence.

Liz cast her phone onto her desk, causing Aram to wince, "Son of a-!"

Ressler scoffed, "The one time I actually suggest to call him and…"

"I always did think you had good instincts, Agent Ressler," Aram offered but was quickly shut down by the hard look he received from the bigger agent.

"Tell Cooper. I'm coming with you this time." Ressler directed Liz, who opened her mouth to protest, but he had already turned to Aram, "mobilize unites outside of the park at 18th and Cedar. I want to be prepared for whatever Reddington throws at us this time. Agent Navabi, ask Mavers about any possible connections between Reddington and Sorenson." He started to walk out of the office again, but Liz squeezed past Aram and Samar to stop him in the doorway. She paused to let Aram and Samar slip awkwardly past them.

Ressler eyed her hand on his arm but she didn't remove it until a second later, "You know he's know going to talk if you're there," She started.

Her partner turned to fully face her and she was suddenly reminded of how impressive his physique was now that they were in such close proximity, "Keen, I'm not sending you off to meet him when he's currently out mingling with the woman that helps mobsters carry our hits on each other."

"Reddington won't hurt me," Liz protested but Ressler cut her off again.

" _Reddington_ might not but you don't know who else will be there." He said with a final note to it and this time, Liz let him walk away.

}+{+}{+}{+}+{

"Lizzie, I see you brought a friend," Reddington exclaimed from his spot on the park bench.

"Believe me, I didn't have a choice," Liz mumbled under her breath and she and Ressler approached Reddington and sat on the bench next to his.

Reddington angled his head towards her partner, "As good as it may be to see you, Donald, I don't remember that this is the way it works. Dembe, bring the car around."

"I haven't forgotten. You can still talk to Keen. Just think of me as an extra bonus. I won't say a word."

The Concierge of Crime turned to scrutinize Ressler, and to the agent's credit, he didn't even bat an eye, holding the criminal's gaze evenly, if not a little defiantly.

"You're here as her bodyguard," Reddington remarked, nodding a little. Then he stood up, adjusted his hat on his head and turned.

"No, wait." Liz stood up also, throwing away all pretense of not knowing him, she shot a desperate glance at Ressler, who also rose to his feet, "We need your help,-"

"Lizzie, as much as I would like to continue this conversation, we can't do this out here without it looking it a FBI shakedown and I don't think the "Donald from the State Department" play is going to work here."

Liz shut her mouth and dutifully sat down and felt Ressler sink down onto his spot next to her. She wait a minute, then got up and traced Reddington's path towards his car. Once Ressler deemed the coast to be clear, he ordered all units to stand down and opened the car door for Liz. She slid in the backseat next to Reddington while Ressler took the front passenger seat.

"Where is Sorenson?" She demanded as soon as the door shut. Reddington sighed and took off his hat, placing it carefully on his lap, "You led us to this case only to what, take her for your own from right under our noses after we spent _weeks_ scrambling for even just a single lead?"

"Now, you have to understand,-"

"No, I don't have to understand any of your business dealing nonsense. Sorenson abducst _children_ and prostitutes them to help her run the underground and black market. She has a hand in each and every dirty deal that goes down in the cartels and mafias. You're done with her. Hand her over."

Reddington stared at her for a second, until he finally opened his mouth, "Are you done? Because the car doesn't have very good acoustics and if you insist on continuing to yell, I'll have Dembe drop us off somewhere a little more open."

Liz stared at him in disbelief, "Did you hear any of what I just said?"

"Yes, Lizzie, I did hear you, and quite a bit too much of you. Unfortunately, I won't be able to bring Sorenson to you right now."

Out of the corner of her eye, Liz saw Ressler turn slightly in his seat, tensed. She leveled Reddington with a seething look, "So what, you gave us this wild goose chase, making us waste countless resources, just to arrange a cozy little meetup behind our backs with dear Genevieve to exchange little secrets over a Renoir? I bet the two of you had a real laugh." She made a move to get out of the car, but Reddington put a hand over the door handle.

"Quite the opposite, actually. _You_ led me to Sorenson. Yes, once the FBI took her little henchman, Mavers, into their custody, it sent up little flares that led me to her. Like breadcrumbs, if you will. I followed them, conducted my business with her and took my leave. If you're wondering why she isn't here with me right now, it's because she is headed to the FBI for lockup."

Ressler's phone suddenly began to ring and he shared a look with Liz after glancing at the caller ID. She turned back to Reddington, her gaze still cool.

"Ah, yes, that must be her arrival at your black site. It was a pleasure, as always. Oh, and the State Department should be getting a package fairly soon. Make sure there are air holes and tell him to prepare warm blankets and clean clothing." Reddington called after the agents as they climbed out of the car.

And not an hour later, Aram was informed by his contact at State of the arrival of a mysterious delivery of abducted children.

}+{+}{+}{+}+{

Later, in their office, Liz was slumped in her chair, staring down at her desk, not seeing any of the files laid out in from of her when Ressler walked in. She looked up to see him lean against the wall next to her, arms crossed and matched Liz's sour expression with a rueful smile of his own.

"Well, at least the children were saved," He said a little pathetically. Everyone had gone home for the night, save for the overnight guards and the occasional agent catching up on paperwork.

Liz scoffed half-heartedly, "When does it end?" She asked, so quietly that she didn't think Ressler heard her until he replied a few moments later.

"It doesn't. We just gotta learn how to deal with working with a world-class criminal."

Liz looked up at her partner, surprised by the lack of bitterness that usually accompanied his words when he talked about the Concierge of Crime.

Ressler picked his coat up from the coat rack, "Hey, you hungry?" He asked almost abruptly, "I was going to go home and order in a pizza and I've got some beers in my fridge."

She watched her partner for a moment then glanced back down at the files on her desk. She wasn't ready to go back to her motel yet, but she clearly wasn't going to get any more done here. "You know what? Yeah, I am kinda hungry." Liz swept the files into a drawer in her desk, looking up to see Ressler's lips quirk up into a smile before he turned to take her coat off the rack also. He graciously helped her into it and when she turned around, she realized that he hadn't stepped away. He was so close that even in the dim light, she could almost see each individual eyelash on his eyelids.

"You're bleeding again," She noted softly, tracing her fingers lightly around the cuts that speckled his face, smoothing the edge of the bandage that covered the big cut on his temple where fresh blood was beginning to spot it again.

Ressler's eyes fluttered shut and Liz noticed his breathing becoming more shallow as she finished tracing light paths between each cut and she brought her hand along his jaw to rest her fingers just under his chin before dropping her arm. She also marveled somewhat subconsciously at how smooth his skin felt.

"I'll live," He breathed, his voice hoarser than usual. His eyes opened again to fix her with a deep gaze and her toes tingled.

"So," Liz drew a slightly shaky breath, "what kind of beer are we talking about here? Because I might need something a little stronger after these past few weeks."

And if it took Ressler a little longer to answer, Liz didn't mind because she was still replaying the last few seconds in her head as well.


	5. Fresh Sheets and Key Rings

Disclaimer: I don't own any aspect of The Blacklist

"Good morning, Agent Keen," Aram greeted Liz as she stepped into the bullpen.

"Good morning, Aram. Meera," Liz nodded to her fellow agents as she headed to her shared office to drop her things off before the morning briefing. She noted with interest that the office door was locked and when she opened the door, the space was dark and empty. Usually Ressler would be inside, having just gotten in also, waiting with a customary cup of coffee for her, something that she had insisted that he needn't do, but he continued to do since the first day he had started.

 _"_ _Morning, Ressler." Liz muttered as she bustled into the office. She had been running late again today, having woken up way past her alarm as what seemed to be her norm after being kept up by plaguing nightmares of her suspicious ex-husband, who was now in the wind, with frequent appearances from the ever unpredictable Raymond Reddington and his seemingly deep stake in her life._

 _"_ _Morning, Keen." He sounded slightly less flustered than she, but his tone still held an unusual edge._

 _She tossed her coat onto the coat rack and dropped her purse into the locked drawer and kicked it shut. Then she pulled the files she had taken home from her other bag and dropped them onto her desk when she suddenly (finally) noticed it and stopped moving completely. A medium sized, Styrofoam, take-away coffee cup from a café that she had always made Ressler stop at before a long stakeout was sitting on her desk._

 _Liz looked up from the cup, bewildered, but smiling nonetheless, "What is this?" She asked slowly, trying to fight the smile._

 _Ressler looked at her over his own cup, "Coffee," He said casually and leaned back in his chair, watching her with raised eyebrows, "You still drink it, don't you?"_

 _She laughed, still a little confused, "I-yes, but,- you brought me coffee?"_

 _Her partner just shrugged, focusing on his own cup, a slightly abashed smile working its way to his face._

 _Liz picked up the cup, raising it as a mock toast to him before taking a sip. It was growing cold – he must have been waiting for her for a while, but it was one of her favorite orders from that café and his thoughtfulness touched her. She never took Ressler for this kind of a person, especially when she had first started working with him._

 _"_ _Thank you, Ressler. This was very sweet of you." She told him sincerely and was rewarded with a boyish smile, so quick that if she blinked, she would have missed it. Then he was back to business, standing up from his chair and straightening his tie._

 _"_ _Shall we?" He asked, gesturing toward the door._

 _Liz smiled warmly at him, amused by how hard he was trying to retain his stern reputation and how it was beginning to chip away more and more._

 _Meera noticed their matching coffee cups right away with a raised eyebrow and a smirk at Liz, who tried to suppress the blush crawling up her neck and to her cheeks, but it took Aram weeks to notice this and Ressler never missed a day, despite Liz's protests._

 _It took almost a month until Liz realized that the café he was going to "on his way" to the Post Office was actually not as convenient as he had claimed it to be. In fact, he had to take quite a detour from his apartment to the café before circling back to the black site every morning. Not only that, he took the trouble to switch between her favorite drinks (which she had never listed out to him) so that she never got tired of the same order._

Liz eyed his empty desk and the bare coatrack, confirming that Ressler had not yet arrived at the Post Office. Then she checked her watch again. Somehow, she had beaten punctual, consistent Donald Ressler to work. Liz put her things away more tidely than normal, without her partner there to wait for her to start the day and sat to finish out some paperwork. Ten minutes later, Aram came into her office with a quick but timid knock, armed with a mug of coffee, clearly brewed in the breakroom.

"Agent Keen, I brought you, ah, a cup of coffee." He said almost nervously, his cheeks tinged with a bit of pink.

She looked up in surprise, "I-, thank you, Aram, but you know, I _can_ make my own cup of coffee." She said, unsure if she should be more miffed that her colleagues assumed she wasn't able to brew her own cuppa joe or flattered that Aram had taken Ressler's absence as an opportunity to bring her coffee.

"Uh, yes, I know, I just thought it would be a nice gesture…You're always working so hard. Uhm, anyway, I should get back… I've been analyzing the patterns on potential pings from - "

Liz smiled kindly at her coworker, "thanks, Aram."

He smiled at her before ducking out of the office. Liz looked out the window to see Meera barely suppressing an eye roll and laughed to herself.

By ten in the morning, Liz had finished her report and walked it up to Cooper's office and Ressler still wasn't in. She was beginning to think that he was out on assignment from Cooper since Reddington was on a supposed "vacation" in Havana.

"Thank you, Agent Keen. You wouldn't happen to know where the Madeline Pratt case file is, would you?" Cooper asked as she began to turn to leave.

"Actually, sir, Agent Ressler took it home with him last night. He's not in yet."

Cooper took off his reading glasses and sighed, "Agent Ressler called in sick this morning."

"Sir? He called in _sick_?" Liz repeated in disbelief and Cooper smiled wryly.

"Yes, I was equally surprised. Perhaps you should go check on him and retrieve the file from him. There are certain routing numbers that Aram needs to continue his tracking and research."

Liz nodded, still a little taken aback at the thought of a sick Ressler. "Of course, sir."

"Don't worry, he didn't sound too contagious on the phone." Cooper reassured her, mistaking her hesitance as fear for her own health but that only alarmed Liz even more. How could you tell if someone was sick over the phone? Not to mention the fact that it probably would've taken one hell of a disease to make Agent Donald Ressler take a day off from work. This was the man who returned to his job before he had been fully cleared by his doctors while recovering from a five hour surgery from his bullet torn leg and who had returned to work promptly after the mandatory 1 week after his fiancée had been murdered before him.

"Right. Well, I should get going then, sir." Liz finally said, trying not to sound too disconcerted. She hurried back to the office and grabbed her things, throwing on her coat on her way through the bullpen with a quick explanation of where she was going to Aram and Meera. It wasn't until the lift doors closed when she realized that Cooper hadn't even bothered to try to tell her where Ressler lived, assuming that she already knew.

Which she did.

 _The first time Liz went to his apartment, it was by accident. She hadn't intended to go to the place where he lived, nor did she even realize until it was too late to prepare herself to see where her uptight partner spent his downtime. Of course, it had been right after he had nearly gotten himself blow up. Again._

 _"_ _Keen, I just saved a man from getting blown into smithereens. I didn't just throw myself in front of a bomb the way you did at the zoo." Ressler tried to explain._

 _"_ _At the zoo? You mean when I was with a six-year old girl with a bomb inside her backpack in a place full of children and families?" She spluttered angrily as they got into their SUV._

 _Ressler threw her a side glance, "Exactly. It is all context dependent." He stuck the keys into the ignition but Liz didn't even break her outraged stare as she buckled herself up._

 _"_ _It was a timed bomb and you willingly gave up your weapon and walked up to a man-who repeatedly told you to stop- that had strapped a body bomb to himself and was holding the trigger and had a death wish!"_

 _He shot her a futile glance, "Keen-,"_

 _"_ _You're getting reckless." She deadpanned, turning to stare straight ahead but not really seeing anything but the action replay of her partner marching up to the hill of the cemetery._

 _They rolled to a stop at a stoplight and Ressler took the chance to turn to look fully at her, "You walked into a hostage situation unarmed too and you're still calling me reckless?"_

 _Keen whipped her head around to fix him with an angry look, "I had the situation profiled and there was a little girl bleeding out in there. You went in blind." She snapped but she was beginning to get the feeling that Ressler was actually enjoying her concern over him._

 _He scoffed but knew better than to start another argument over the concept of psychological profiling._

 _"_ _The worst part is, you know it too! You know you've been throwing yourself into these dangerous situations and yet you're continuing to do so. Ever since Tanida…" She trailed off, worried she might have overstepped by a giant leap but he didn't even bat an eye._

 _"_ _My job is dangerous, Keen. Nothing's changed." Ressler insisted, his eyes focused strictly on the road._

 _"_ _And you still haven't had a proper conversation with Dr. Friedman." Liz continued after she had deemed it safe. "You never know, it could help you in ways you didn't even know."_

 _He continued to look anywhere and everywhere but at her. They pulled into a parking garage as Liz finally softened._

 _"_ _Look, I told you this before, but I can't lose you. I could never do this-," But she stopped as soon as she got out of the car. "This isn't the Post Office. Where are we?"_

 _"_ _My apartment complex. I ran out of suits at the blacksite and this one has a bunch of tears in it now. You comin'?" He called over his should as he began walking purposefully through the rows of cars. Liz scrambled after him, surprised by how causally he had just brought her over to his apartment, without even the slightest of warnings too._

 _He led her briskly through the maze of hallways before finally stopping in front of a plain, undecorated door which he unlocked with his usual swift effectiveness and ushered her in._

 _Once inside, Liz had to do a double take. She had expected something sparse, minimal, something you would see in a model room shown to prospective tenants but in reality, his apartment was quite…homey. Still very organized and clean but definitely lived in and cozy with simple decorations and snuggly knitted throws folded or draped over the couch and armchairs, coasters lying randomly on the coffee table and a couple of newspapers scattered on a couch cushion._

 _Ressler took off his coat and squeezed past her, "help yourself to something to drink; glasses are in the top right cabinet. I'll only be a couple of minutes." He called._

 _Liz walked herself to the kitchen, which was also very tidy, save for a plate and glass in the sink, "Thanks, but I'm good." She replied, a couple seconds too late. The whole situation felt way too intimate than it should have, especially since his apartment spoke volumes about how her initial perceptions about him were way off. His home gave off a different side of him, never before seen in the office that she felt as though she was privy to one of his deepest secrets, one that he actively worked to hide from everyone else. It was like their partnership (did she dare say friendship?) had progressed to a new level. She could almost hear the "ding!" of a life achievement box being ticked off._

 _The one thing she did notice, however, was that there was a lack of picture frames on shelf tops and his fridge had only a three magnets that held nothing to the surface._

 _"_ _Hey, you sure you didn't want some water or something?" Ressler asked as he appeared in the kitchen, this time doing up the buttons of a fresh blue shirt with a tie in his hand and a new jacket draped over his arm. He threw the tie around his neck as he bent down and opened his fridge, "I think I might have some juice in here."_

 _"_ _Uh, I'm fine, thanks," Liz stammered, caught off guard by how comfortable he was and how this was the first time she had seen him look this relaxed. Oh, and did she mention that she was standing in the kitchen of a man that refused to talk about himself in the office?_

 _"_ _Good, because it's expired anyway." He straightened up and regarded the carton for a second before tossing it into the sink._

 _"_ _You were going to drink that," She accused, finally recovering herself to make a sentence come out of her mouth that wasn't "no, thanks"_

 _He began to tuck his shirt into his pants, "I'm a bachelor, Keen, this is what the life is about."_

 _"_ _Reckless."_

 _"_ _Oh, c'mon," Ressler led the way out of the kitchen while knotting his tie with experienced precision, "what's life without a few risks?"_

"Ressler? Ressler, it's me, Liz." She called as she knocked again with more force. She was starting to get desperate, one of his neighbors already came out and saw her pounding against his door two minutes ago and she was getting ready to kick down the door if he didn't answer in the next ten seconds to save herself the embarrassment and also to make sure he wasn't lying on the bathroom floor, out cold next to a box of tissues and a bottle of Tylenol.

"Ressler, I-,"

"Just hold on a sec, would ya?" A voice growled on the other side of the door and Liz was reminded forcibly of a grumpy rhinoceros. The door opened a crack but Liz was having none of that. She wedged her foot in and swung it open, slipping inside in one fluid motion.

"Yes, please, do come in." Ressler said snarkily but his usually acerbic tone had been replaced by a much deeper, rasping sound.

Liz turned to look at him, "you sound like a drowning bear." She remarked, giving her partner a quick once-over. He was dressed in an old Quantico hoodie and sweats that were probably from his sports days and his feet were bare. Her eyes returned to his face, a light layer of scruff spanned his jawline and upper lip and his nose was red which accompanied his flushed complexion in a beautiful mix that screamed "sick day".

"What do you want, Keen? Missed me too much at the office?" He padded back to his couch where a rumpled flannel blanket lay strewn in obvious abandonment and dropped himself heavily down on the cushions, causing the tissue box next to him to fly up in the air from the displaced force.

"Well, I came for the Pratt file and now I guess, also to check up on you." She said, regarding his living room with a slightly mystified expression. The typical, tidy lived-in arrangement was apparently transformed into a bachelor's whirlwind mess whenever the occupant fell under the weather. Crumpled tissues littered the ground around the small trash bin and several case files were spread out on the floor next to empty water bottles.

Ressler pulled his blanket over himself, slumped further back in his seat and shut his eyes tightly. "It's on the coffee table." He cleared his throat but it turned quickly into a violent cough.

"Hey, have you taken anything for that yet?" Liz asked, not bothering to mask her concern.

He cracked an eye open at her, "Seriously?" he croaked and Liz remembered with a pang of guild that he had sworn off all sorts of medication since his addiction.

"Okay, well, have you eaten anything yet today?" She asked hastily and he shook his head, eyes closed again.

"I couldn't keep anything down." He mumbled.

She stalked over to his fridge and opened it, only to be greeted with a half-empty jug of milk, a lone box of Chinese take-out and a sad looking pear in the vegetable drawer, "You're really living that bachelor life, aren't you?" She called, lifting up a stick of butter by the open wrapping with two fingers. There was no answer.

Liz walked back to the living room to see her partner dozing on the couch. She gathered the contents of the file quietly while keeping an eye on Ressler.

"Hey, I'm going to run this back to the blacksite and get you some food, okay?" She told him softly. She earned a faint grunt and had to resist the urge to reach out a pull the blanket more securely around his shoulders. Before she could reach the door, he rasped,

"Take my keys. I don't want to have to get up again to let you in."

Liz dutifully peeked into the ceramic bowl sitting on the little table in the entryway and fished out his key ring before letting herself out of his apartment. She caught the eye of the same neighbor as she made a beeline for the stairs and fought the flush creeping up the back of her neck. While she was going down the narrow staircase, he phone began to ring, echoing all up and down the staircase. If it wasn't the middle of the day and everyone wasn't at work, she might've been worried that she was disturbing Ressler's entire building.

"Keen," She hissed into the phone.

"Agent Keen, how is our Agent Ressler?" it was Cooper.

She sighed into the receiver, "He's definitely come down with something, sir. I'm headed bac to the Post Office with the file now, then I'm going to try to find some food to bring him."

"No need, Agent Keen. I've got Aram here and you can just tell him the information he needs. Perhaps you should take the rest of the day and help out Ressler since it's a slow day here anyway."

"Sir, I-," Liz began to protest but before she could squeeze in another sound, Aram was addressing her over the phone. Thankfully, she had already exited the building at this point and was just reaching her car that was parked across the street. She read off all the routing numbers to Aram and snapped a few pictures to text to him.

"Thanks, Agent Keen. Oh, and before you go, there's an excellent bistro two blocks from Agent Ressler's apartment. Take care." The line disconnected abruptly and Liz sighed as she tossed the file into the backseat and drove away in search of the so-acclaimed bistro.

}+{+}+{

"Hey, it's me, I'm back." She called as she nudged her way into the entryway. Glancing over at the couch, she saw that Ressler hadn't moved an inch. He stirred as she bustled behind the couch to set her things down on the counter in the kitchen.

"I brought soup, do you want some?" She called, shrugging off her coat and hurrying over to the coatrack in the entry to hang it up. On her way back to the kitchen, she peered over the back of the couch, "Ressler?"

"Huh? Oh, no thanks." He mumbled, reaching for a tissue.

"It's store bought." She added.

"Oh alright, just a cup then." He conceded a little too readily and Liz turned away to hide her inevitable eyeroll.

Dropping down onto the couch, she handed him his soup and a couple of tablets.

"Liz…" He said regarded the tablets in his open palm as if they were writhing, poisonous snakes.

"Oh, relax, they're just vitamin C tablets. You could use some. And drink that soup before it gets cold."

Ressler turned to her and even his fever-clouded eyes made her heart skip a beat, "You don't have to do this, you know."

"Oh, I know." Liz replied airly but her heart was suddenly pounding hard in her chest and she had to force herself not to stare as Ressler dipped his spoon into the soup and raised it to his lips.

"Uh, I got you a sandwich too, if you're feeling up to it." Liz said quickly, rising abruptly from the couch but judging by how quickly her partner's flushed face turned pale, she knew her answer.

Ressler cleared his throat, "Soup's good." He said a little thickly and much to Liz's horror, stuck a spoonful of soup into his mouth and swallowed with great difficulty.

"Okay, well, I'm going to put away the rest of the groceries-," Liz gestured to the kitchen but he interrupted her.

"Groceries? You got me groceries?"

Liz sighed, "Ressler, you're sick. You need food and energy and it's not going to be coming from that Chinese take-out and single pear." When he didn't reply right away, she began to worry that she had overstepped her bounds again.

"Thanks." He finally said gruffly and Liz let out a breath before making her way back to the kitchen.

Soon enough, she found herself wiping down his countertops and drifting back into the living room and tidying up the open case files and picking up the used tissues. Meanwhile, Ressler was napping on the couch again but Liz took a bit of pride in the fact that he had finished all of the soup and the vitamin C roll was short a few more tablets. On her way to the bathroom, she noticed that his bedroom door was open and his bed was unmade. Well, to be exact, his comforter was strewn on the floor and his sheets were half ripped from the bed. That poor man. Liz had always pictured Ressler to be a bed-making man but now even his blankets reflected his poor state of health.

So in a moment of total abandon and extreme intrusion, she ventured into his room and noted that his sheets were damp- probably from his fever sweat- and tore them from the bed to wash them.

}+{+}+{

She was just pulling the sheets from the dryer when she sensed him behind her.

"Ressler!" She gasped because, a. he was now mobile and looked 10 times healthier, b. she was pulling _his_ sheets out of _his_ dryer and was just now realizing the idea sounded 10 times better in her head and c. he was shirtless and she was appreciating that 10 times more than she had any right to be.

"You're still here," He said a little dumbly and Liz consoled herself in the fact that he wasn't 100% yet so the situation was probably still very fuzzy to at least one of them.

"Yeah," she replied, and not as intelligently as she had hoped.

"And you cleaned." He was however, sounding less like a rhinoceros.

"Yeah," She clutched the fresh sheets tighter to her as if her modesty could make up for some of his uncovering.

"And you washed my sheets." He leaned up against the door frame to his little laundry room and stuck his hands in the pockets of his sweats.

"Mmmm…" She was definitely _not_ weak in the knees.

He gave her a little smile, "Liz you didn't have to do this. Any of this." He reached for the sheets, "here, let me."

Liz let him take the sheets out of her hands, "Well, it is good to see you feeling better." She told him sincerely.

"Thanks, I think my fever broke while I was sleeping on the couch." Ressler said, pointing to his bare chest as if in explanation, "I need to change shirts." He added when Liz stared a little too long at what his fingers were indicating.

"Oh, of course. I, uh, thought you might want fresh sheets to sleep on tonight." Liz told him as she followed him out of the laundry room to his bedroom. Wordlessly, they made his bed, their moves perfectly coordinated in the way that only partners could achieve.

When they were done, Liz stepped back to admire their handiwork and Ressler walked around the bed to reach her.

"Keen," He said, putting his hands on her should and therefore forcing her to turn and look up into his eyes (because looking at what was eyelevel to her would've been wildly inappropriate as he still hadn't put on a shirt), "Thank you for sticking around today and taking care of me. It's been a while…"

Somehow, her traitorous fingers found their way up to his bare chest where they rested lightly as she responded, "don't mention it. I always have your back and now I've kinda paid you back for all those coffees you keep bringing me. Now, put on a shirt before you get yourself sick again." She scolded lightly.

He chuckled and walked to his dresser to pull out a clean T-shirt and pulled it neatly over his head. Ressler walked back to her, something shiny dangling between his fingers and held it in front of her until Liz opened her palm and allowed him to drop it onto her hand. It was a simple key ring.

"You're giving me a key?" She exclaimed, looking between him and the offending metal object with wide eyes.

"Whoa, calm down, Keen, it's not a like a marriage proposal or anything. I just thought it would be nice since we're both alone. That way I don't need to come answer the door every time you come over." He reassured her, "you know, in case of emergencies." He added hastily at her raised eyebrow.

"So either you're incredibly lazy, or I'm over here way too often." She said snidely but closed her fingers over the cool metal nonetheless. She would question his judgement on a different day, once he was back to full health. For now, she was happy to stay in his apartment and nurse Ressler back to health the best she could.

"Plus, Mrs Doddson won't keep asking me so many questions."

"Ohh, so that's what her name is!"

 **Thanks for reading! Reviews are treasured as always, and feel free to leave me any prompts**


	6. Wine Glasses and Offered Rides

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Blacklist**

The party was a small affair, more like an informal get-together than anything, to celebrate the reunion of the task force. It was being graciously hosted by the Coopers in their new home so it was part-housewarming, part "hey, look, we all survived and have been cleared to keep our jobs!" celebration. Cooper had assured Liz that it wasn't going to be a big deal and that he and Charlene just needed to do something to get their minds off everything (the old house had too many memories, they both needed a fresh start in their relationship but moving in was stirring up too many of those old feelings and needed a distraction to unpack faster) so Liz had shown up with a decent bottle of Merlot and a set of dishtowels with a promise to herself that she would mingle and that sitting next to Dembe all nigh didn't count.

And so she found herself next to Aram with a glass of white wine after the perfunctory small talk with Cooper and then Charlene (the dishtowels are beautiful and my, what a gorgeous patio). Even Dembe was out there, clinking wine glasses with Charlene and Kim, the Asian tech that they often worked with, admiring the landscaping of the Coopers' new lawn. Surprisingly, Aram had retreated quietly into Liz's corner by the drinks table after making his rounds to everyone (which had lasted far longer than hers and also included more people.)

"Why aren't you out there being the social animal that you are? I know you love parties like these." Liz teased him as she watched Cooper grill the second round of kebabs.

"Probably for the same reason as you," Aram replied, raising his bottle of beer to his lips, not quite meeting her eyes.

Liz scoffed lightly, "What, because you just came in from the cold after being an accused Russian spy and being chased as an international criminal that was up for slaughter?"

"Well, what I meant was because I didn't feel like socializing but it's good to know you still feel that way about yourself." Aram stated matter-of-factly and Liz felt a pang in her chest as she thought of how the Aram she used to know would've flinched at her sharp retort, but now he was calmly accepting of her crude comment.

Liz sighed and turned to face her coworker, "I'm so sorry, Aram. It's just, I still don't quite know how I feel about being back."

He waved her off, "I know what you mean. It's tough because too much has changed and now they're throwing this whole party as if to remind us of that."

"Aram, what is in that beer? Why so cynical all of a sudden?" Liz joked lightly. She had never heard the Arab man so sad before. Turning to him, she set her glass down on the table in front of them and directed her full attention toward him.

"We all missed you, Liz." He offered her a half-smile and Liz smiled a little sadly back.

"I missed you all too."

"Those, uh, crackers with the tomato spread are really good." Aram said, pointing over at the food table and Liz gratefully accepted his change in topic.

She got to her feel and gestured toward the colorful assortment of refreshments, "Shall we? Can't be a good guest unless we taste the delicious hors d'oeuvres prepared specially for us.

"Not that I miss him and his…thinly veiled threats, but where is Mr. Reddington tonight?" Aram asked as the two of them made their way across the yard, politely avoiding eye contact with any of their other coworkers so not to provoke any new conversation.

"Uh, I think he said this party was a little too popular for his taste. He kind of sent Dembe to come in his place." Liz replied, handing Aram a paper plate. They filled up their plates and struck up some easy conversation with a nearby group of field agents before retreated back to their corner. Their mood had sobered up again and Aram had traded his beer for a Coke. Liz found her eyes drifting over to Ressler, who had just arrived and was now in a conversation with Samar near the grill. Liz hadn't talked much to Ressler since she had been officially cleared but then again, she had barely even seen him for more than a few minutes at a time since then.

"They slept together, you know." Aram said quietly. His eyes had followed hers and he was gazing morosely in the direction of their closest coworkers.

Liz turned her head sharply to face him, "What?"

Aram sighed, ducking his head down to watch his fingers trace the lines of condensation on his can of cola, "Yeah, after Samar's brother…"

"Oh. I, um," She tried to play it off but her stomach was turning unpleasantly and she couldn't find any words that she could string together coherently so instead, she took a forceful swig from his wine glass.

The tech gave her a sympathetic look, "I know."

"No, no, I don't-, he can do whatever… it doesn't matter to me, I just never thought…" Liz tried to explain but she was completely flustered.

Aram cleared his throat, "Right," He said unconvincingly. "Well, I'm going to head out now. I'd offer to split an Uber with you but I don't think the driver would appreciate it since we live on opposite ends of town. Goodnight, Liz. See you Monday."

"Bye Aram." Liz raised her glass to him and smiled but Aram only gave a small wave and left with a dejected look on his face. She lingered for a little longer and held brief conversations with whomever approached her but not an hour after Aram left, she stood and made her way to the Coopers to thank them and bid them a good night.

"Dembe." She approached the tall man just as he turned away from his conversation, "I'm going to go now, but you stay and enjoy yourself." She told him.

His brow furrowed slightly, "Is everything okay, Elizabeth? You are not enjoying yourself? Perhaps I should drive you home now,"

"No, no thank you, I was just going to call an Uber. Stay, don't worry about me."

"But, Elizabeth, I drove you here, I should take you back. Besides, you know Raymond will not like that you are riding home with a stranger." Dembe insisted.

Liz smiled kindly up at him, "Then I'll call Reddington. Don't worry, Dembe. I'll be fine. You just stay and have a good time. Good night." She patted on the arm and turned to leave. She gave Charlene a final wave as she slid open the screen door on the patio and stepped inside to rinse out her wine glass.

She heard the door slide open then shut as she was drying her glass, but didn't look up, assuming it was just Charlene.

"Hey, you taking off already?"

Liz stopped mid action at the sound of an achingly familiar deep voice and turned to see Ressler grinning at her, shirtsleeves rolled up, hands in his pockets, top button undone. She wasn't sure when the last time it was that she had seen him so at ease and happy. And surprisingly, that thought hurt.

"Uh, yeah. It's been a long day-,"

"Oh, well, do you need a ride? I'll drive you." He offered quickly and Liz felt a slight flash of annoyance.

"No, thank you. I was going to call an Uber. Or Reddington." She turned back around quickly and finished drying her glass. She really wasn't in the mood to talk to Ressler and hoped that he would take the hint.

"Nah, don't be ridiculous. I've got the car right outside. C'mon, we can leave now." He told her earnestly, "it would give us some time to catch up."

Suddenly, something inside her snapped and Liz whipped around, " _Catch up?_ Oh what? OH, I was just the most wanted criminal and was constantly avoiding capture and death while trying to clear my name, but don't worry, my partner caught me and imprisoned me and I almost died about fifty times after that, but don't worry. I'm here now. How about you? Oh, right, _you're_ the partner that caught me. So tell me, did you ever remodel your kitchen?" She took one look at Ressler's stricken look and instantly regretted having opened her mouth at all. She had gone over what she was going to say to him the first chance they had to talk a million times and of all of those times, it had not sounded anything like what had just come out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, I really should just leave." Liz pushed away from the sink and brushed past Ressler on her way out of the kitchen, avoiding eye contact by staring straight down at her feet.

But the man still could not take a hint.

"This is exactly why we need to talk, Keen. Just- just let me drive you. We can start out with that. That's all I'm asking." He began to walk after her so she had no choice but to turn around. Still not meeting his eyes, she tried to shake him one last time.

"I really just need to be alone now. Thanks for the offer." She responded stiffly, trying to keep the floodgate of emotions tightly shut.

"Well, I would hardly call Reddington 'being alone'." Ressler countered.

Liz finally raised her gaze to meet her former partner's eyes and was not at all surprised to see the strong determinism in them, "Maybe you should just go back to the party. I'm sure Samar is wondering where you are." She blurted the last part and watched as confusion, realization, disbelief and finally something that she could only describe as agony crossed his face.

"Keen, I-," he stepped closer and Liz reflexively took a step back.

She held up a hand and tried to give a light laugh, "No, you don't have to explain anything to me. In fact, it's really none of my business and I shouldn't have said anything about it anyway." She turned and started to walk away again but his fingers closed over her elbow.

"No, Keen, wait. It's not like that. Please- Keen,"

But she shook him off and reached to speed dial Reddington.

"Lizzie, everything alright?" He answered within two rings.

"Peachy, look, I need a ride. I told Dembe to stay-,"

Red reassured her and hung up with an anticipated arrival time of twenty minutes. Liz hope that Ressler would've given up but when she turned, he was still there.

"I really can't do this now," She told him and Ressler's gaze softened a little.

He sighed, "I just…" He passed a hand over his face, "I missed you, Liz."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before." She said bitterly.

"No." His eyes locked onto hers and she found herself drowning in their blue intensity, "I don't think you get it. _You ran away from me._ And not only that, you reached out to _him_ , to -," Ressler stopped, looking more upset than Liz had ever seen him. He let out a frustrated breath and turned away from her, running an agitated hand through his hair, resting the other on his hip.

"I couldn't come to you, Ressler. If I did I would be compromising your job, your principles-," She tried to convince him but now it was him that wouldn't look at her, "Ressler, I didn't want to put you in that position again. I'm done trying to drag you down with me."

He scoffed and finally turned to look at her, "'that position'? Keen, I was there the second-," Then he stopped himself again, chest heaving, trying to keep himself under control.

In the other room, the screen door slammed shut and it was Liz moved away from him, away from that raw, desperate look on her former partner's face, "we can't do this here," She said quietly, "you should get back to the party." She repeated, unable to look at him anymore.

 _Back to Samar,_ was the unvocalized thought that hung heavy in the air between them.

"Keen," He beseeched her but she interrupted.

"I'm going to wait for Reddington outside." She gasped and turned quickly on her heel to leave, fiercely hoping that he wouldn't continue to come after her.

But he still reached for her, like a magnet unwilling to let go of its pair, his fingers brushed against her wrist and she jerked her hand up to her chest, to safety, "Keen, wait, please," He pleaded and she fled from the room as he called after her, "Keen, _Keen,_ no-, Liz-!"

"I really can't do this now," She whispered, her voice breaking a little, more to herself than for his benefit. Every little touch from him felt like a betrayal and she just needed to escape.

"Liz-!"

She burst through the front door and gulped the crisp evening air with shuddering heaves, indulging herself in a single sob that had been building up inside her ever since Aram had revealed the unsettling truth to her. Liz clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle another sob and tried to tell herself that she didn't care, that she _shouldn't_ care and that it had been foolish of her to let his private relationship get in the way of her excitement to see her former partner after months of separation. But the damage had been done. She couldn't let go of the (nonsensical) feeling of betrayal rooted deep inside her as a result of his actions while she had been absent. Nor could she wipe the hurt look in Ressler's eyes from her mind, the look that would've otherwise convinced her that she wasn't the only person whose heart had just been shattered into a million pieces.

* * *

 **Hi all! Just wanted to say a quick thanks to everyone who has left such kind reviews and all of you guys who are reading and following/favoriting! Sorry for the little inconsistencies in format.. I haven't quite figured out how I want to do it.**

 **Cheers, L.**


	7. Pizza Night and Mobsters

**Disclaimer: I don't own any aspect of the Blacklist… I could never do the show justice if I did**

 **A continuation of "Shattered Glass and Mobsters" as requested~**

"You sure your shoulder is okay?" Ressler asked Liz as he held his apartment door open for her, "You took a pretty hard fall on it."

"I'll be fine. We do need to change the bandage on your face, though." She reminded him and Ressler led the way to his kitchen where he stuck the pack of Coke in the fridge and grabbed two cold beers in one hand before shutting the door while she shucked her blazer. He offered one to Liz but instead of taking just her own, she took both from his hands and set them down on the counter next to the pizza.

"Bandage." She said sternly and Ressler smirked, but walked out of the kitchen dutifully. He made a beeline for his bedroom and felt Liz's steps falter behind him.

"Where-?"

"Relax, Keen." He told her, throwing another smirk over his shoulder, "My first aid kit is in the en suite. Come in, I've got nothing to hide." He loosened his tie and shrugged off his jacket, hanging both the jacket and tie carefully in his closet before rolling up his shirtsleeves. He turned to look at Liz who was still standing in the middle of his bedroom, unmoving and looking a little lost. Of all the times she had been in his apartment, he didn't think that she'd ever stepped foot in his room.

"So you hid all your Asian porn in the off chance that I'd come in here, huh?" She teased, clearly trying to appear less flustered.

He chuckled, "Still convinced of that, are you?"

"Well, I was right about everything else, so I don't see why not." Liz replied lightly and if Ressler wasn't mistaken, there was the faintest tinge of pink dusting her cheeks and his thoughts strayed back to the moment they shared back in their office (how did that woman manage to keep her fingerstips so soft what with all the field action and shooting they got?)

Evidently, he wasn't the only one reminiscing but Liz seemed to have drawn up something different from that memory as she tilted her head toward the bathroom with a purposeful look.

He sighed and went into the en suite and pulled out the bandages and antibiotic creams and ointments needed to properly clean the cuts on his face. Starting with the smaller cuts, he dabbed at them with a q-tip, doing his best to appear unaffected by the stinging once he got to the bigger and more significant lacerations on his face. However, once he reached the gash at his temple, it was hard for him to get a good angle in the mirror and Liz had to step in from her spot in the doorway.

"Here," She gently guided him to sit at the edge of the bathtub and stepped deftly between his knees, bending down to properly address the laceration. If she wasn't so businesslike about it (and if the stinging from the ointment wasn't quite so intense) he probably would've made a joke about it. Instead, he stared determinedly at his cabinets and tried to ignore her soft breath against his hairline that made his spine tingle. Jesus, he needed to get laid more often.

Suddenly, she was gone and he looked up in confusion only to have his head tilted back to where it was before by two gentle fingers and she was back in his personal bubble again. Liz was now smoothing butterfly bandages over the cut and on the very last one, the edge of her pinky brushed over his lips for the smallest of seconds. Ressler's fingers twitched on his thigh.

"Done?" He grunted.

"Actually…" She said, her fingers glided down to the collar of his shirt and Ressler's heart leapt up to his throat, "I believe you had a rather nasty cut on your forearm. Near your shoulder?"

 _Damn that woman._

"Uh, yeah, but the paramedic bandaged it up pretty well-,"

"Ressler."

He sighed and unbuttoned his shirt enough to slip it off his shoulder to expose the Liz to the site of the wound and she promptly but carefully peeled off the bandage and gave the deep cut a swab of ointment before dressing it. If her fingers lingered on his bare skin, neither of them acknowledged it as they avoided eye contact through the whole process.

"There," She breathed and Ressler could've worn that the air between them crackled with tension.

He pulled his shirt back on and mumbled his tanks, buttoning up his shirt and taking the supplies from her hands.

"Pizza's probably cold by now." He muttered, trying to fill the heavy silence and waited in anticipation for her answer while she busied herself by washing her hands.

"I don't mind. At least you have an oven that we can warm it up in." She said casually.

"Seriously, Keen. When're you going to find a more permanent place to stay? The motel can't be too good for you and Hudson and moving around so much is just too damn inconvenient. It's sucking all the energy from you." Ressler urged, never missing out on a chance to rag on his partner for her surreptitious moving around, refusing to stay in the same place for too many nights. (If he was to be completely honest, the motels only served as a reminder of Tom Keen and the sooner the man was out of their lives, the better.)

Her eyes met his in mirror, "Reddington wants to give me an apartment."

Ressler couldn't hide the surprised look that sprung to his face, "Soo of a-. Did he already buy one?"

"I don't think so, but I'm sure he's about to. Either way, I'm not taking it. I don't want anything of his that comes from his dirty money." She said bitterly on their way back to the kitchen and Ressler could sense her mood taking a nosedive at the mention of the notorious criminal.

"Well, tell you what, you're welcome here to warm up your cold pizza any time you want." He told her half seriously as he opened the pizza box with a flourish and spun it around to offer her first pick of a slice (she was welcome here whenever and a little part of him still couldn't believe that she had finally accepted his invitation to grab a bite to eat, let alone venture into his apartment, especially since the first time he had done everything short of tricking her into coming in.)

"Well, thank you, Ressler. That's very kind of you." Liz told him in a lofty voice and smirked at him, raising her pizza as a toast to him before taking a bite. Ressler let himself grin back moderately, even though his heart had done another one of those stupid leaps.

They finished their pizza over some light conversation then moved to the couch in his living room where Ressler turned on the TV to catch a football game.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Liz spoke suddenly after a few minutes of silence and Ressler tore his eyes away from the game to look at his partner. She didn't quite meet his eyes and Ressler knew she was trying to find the right way to phrase her question.

"Why did you insist on coming with me to meet Reddington?"

Ressler had his answer ready, having anticipated this question earlier that day, "He was with Sorenson who is a dangerous woman, not just because of her position but because of the kinds of people she's done business with. She has all those connections to all the mobs and for all we know, she could potentially be the female version of Red."

"But much better because she never appeared on the FBI's radar until now." Liz countered wryly.

"She could have manipulated Red for all we knew. God knows it wouldn't be the first time Red's been fooled by a woman." Ressler remarked sardonically.

Liz gazed unseeingly at the TV, "What do you think he wanted from Sorenson?" She mused aloud and Ressler snorted, heaving himself off the couch in search of a fresh drink.

"Probably nothing short of the keys to her empire. Hey, do you want another beer?" He called from the kitchen.

He heard her get up in the other room and respond, "No, thank you. I still have to drive home. In fact, I should really get going. I've intruded on you long enough."

"Nah, don't worry about it. Why don't you just stay over tonight? It's late and you've still got that extra set of clothes in your car, right?" He came back to his living room, holding two new beers and watched her contemplate his offer.

"If you don't mind…" She said hesitantly, her eyes roaming over his face for any signs of dissent, which he gave none of, "I let Hudson out before I came over, so he'll good until morning, but I really don't feel like going back there tonight." Liz confessed shyly but Ressler smiled and handed her a bottle.

"No problem. Gotta enjoy the comforts of a permanent residence while you can." He teased and Liz rolled eyes, sitting back down on the couch.

"The thing with Sorenson though… I mean, if she really was in such a strategic position among the inner-city crime rings, then why deliver her to be arrested instead of whisking her away from the FBI and using her connections for Red's own benefit?" Ressler wondered out loud the second the game lapsed into a commercial break.

"Exactly. Unless he plans on taking over her position, removing the queen broker of the underground would dissolve those connections and assets. And we both know that there's no way Reddington did this out of his respect for the law or a care for the children that she was abducting." Liz took up his return to her question excitedly.

Ressler sipped his beer thoughtfully, "There's the possibility that she posed a threat to his business. It's not the first time he's turned on one of his business associates. The man's done business with just about every criminal in the world."

Liz slumped in her spot on the couch and set her drink on a coaster before pulling a throw pillow onto her lap, snuggling into the corner of the couch and making herself more comfortable which Ressler watched with amusement, "But a woman in Sorenson's position can't be easily disposable. If she really was a threat, don't you think Red would've just taken care of her himself? Maybe he just needs her out of the way for the time being. Or maybe he wants us to figure something else out for ourselves." Her face darkened at the prospect of Reddington leading them on another merry chase.

"Of course he does, that sly bastard. Can't let a single thing sit unless it's driving me crazy at all hours of the day," Ressler grumbled, also sliding lower and more comfortably in his seat. He wasn't sure that he had even said that aloud until Liz looked over at him, her expression lightening up somewhat.

"Well, let me tell you, your years of musing about the mysterious Raymond Reddington in solitude have just ended. That's what partners are for, buddy." Liz announced, giving his knee a playful nudge with her toe before retracting her foot back into her curled up position. Her eyes focused back on the TV as the game resumed but Ressler had already forgotten about football and was turning over the past few weeks' case files and research rapidly, searching, exploring the facts and contingencies.

"Wait. What if Sorenson isn't the end?" He reached over for the remote and muted the TV. Liz turned back to him and groaned.

"Oh, great. I can see that I've opened a whole can of worms. You're missing the game, you know."

"Okay, but hear me out. What if Sorenson is only a stepping stone that Reddington is using to get to someone else? You're always saying not to look at these as individual cases but as a strategy, an endgame, as a criminal would. Maybe Reddington is targeting someone above Sorenson, or needs access to a gang that Sorenson would just get in the way of. Maybe one of Sorenson's partners or associates is the real threat."

He watched his partner earnestly to gauge her reaction but she just looked back at him tiredly.

"No wonder you didn't get bored in those five years chasing Red. Look, can we explore this tomorrow? I think my brain's too tired to comprehend anything more than guys tackling each other for a ball."

Ressler had to chuckle at her defeated and pleading expression as he reached for the remote again, "Hey, being the lead case agent on the task force for #4 is a prestigious position and to be fair, you brought up the question first."

Liz only hummed to show she'd heard but had picked up her beer and was absently watching the game again. Ressler had to admit, they were both tired and his theories would probably sound less sane when they were fully rested and sober.

Fifteen minutes later, he noticed that Liz was struggling to keep her eyes open and he reached to take her beer bottle out of her hand.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed. I've got a spare room but it's kind of filled with all sorts of crap." Ressler offered a hand to Liz and helped her off the couch.

"I don't mind the mess, just as long as I have a place to rest my head." Liz assured him as Ressler led the way to the bedroom. He pulled some fresh towels from his linen closet, along with a new toothbrush and handed them to her. He flipped on the light switch in the room and stood back to let her in. She took in the room slowly, as if trying to memorize it.

"Easy, Keen. I don't need you profiling me based on this room." He told her in mock seriousness. The spare bedroom served as a miscellaneous accommodation for all the junk he couldn't organize into the rest of his apartment or simply didn't use from day to day. There were boxes of his old things he hand moved from his mom's house stacked in corner with a box of Audrey's stuff that he could never bring himself to get rid of. Old sports equipment were crammed in the tiny closet with his gym bag lying on the floor next to it. Boxes of files lined an entire wall under the window.

"I don't know what 'mess' you were talking about. Are these all your cases?" Liz asked in awe as she strode over to the wall and bent over to read the labels.

"Some of them are from my days before the task force. The majority are my notes and files on Reddington. The rest-," But Liz interrupted him in her inquisitiveness.

"Some of these boxes are dated way before you. You're not taking on cold cases are you?" She straightened up to scrutinize him, her fingers resting lightly on the lid of a dusty box as if itching to open it up and let herself be immersed in the puzzle of a case.

Ressler gave a tight lipped smile, "Not exactly. Those were my father's cases." He turned away, hoping to shield his expression from his partner's astute gaze but Liz knew him better than that (or perhaps her aggravating little profiling knack struck gold once again).

"Oh, Ressler. I'm sorry." But it wouldn't be Liz without-, "Will you tell me someday?"

"Someday." He replied, surprising himself. It was the answer she would no doubt be seeking but when he gave it, he realized that it was a promise that he had every intention of keeping.

"Look, I'm going to find you some clothes to sleep in, okay? You make yourself at home." He told her, kicking his gym bag back into the closet and sliding the door shut. He left the room without waiting for an answer and went to dig in his drawers for something that would even remotely fit her petite frame. Ressler came back a few minutes later and Liz was sitting on the bed, facing away from the boxes of files.

"The sweatpants are going to be too long but they have a drawstring and the shirt's old but it's clean." He told her, setting the clothes down on the corner of the bed, "If you need anything else, just ask."

"Ressler." Liz waited until he reluctantly met her eyes, but thankfully, she didn't say another about his father or the box of Audrey's things that she no doubt noticed, "Did you… was there ever anything that you came across that was connected to me or Tom?"

Ressler furrowed his brow and hesitated before moving to sit down next to Liz on the bed, making sure to keep a respectable distance between them.

"I never found anything that could've even remotely indicated a connection between you and Reddington. Or Tom. Believe me, when he asked for you, I came back and looked over everything again. After Tom, I combed over everything again and found nothing. Liz, I would never hide anything like this from you."

She patted his hand, "I know. Thank you, Ressler."

He smiled and stood, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze, "Goodnight, Liz."

"Goodnight."

He padded into his own room and peeled off his shirt before changing into pajama pants and washing up. Ressler crawled into bed and his thoughts drifted briefly to his father until sleep overcame him.

}+{+}+{

Ressler jolted awake suddenly, confused at first about what had woken him until another strangled yell pierced the stillness of the early morning. He crashed his way to his dresser and grasped in the dark for his gun before stumbling across the hall to Liz's room. Squinting through the darkness, he saw his partner thrashing in the bed, captured in the throes of a violent nightmare, no doubt.

"Liz. Hey, Liz." Ressler set his gun down on the shelf opposite the bed and approached Liz, attempting to shake her into consciousness, "Liz, wake up. You're okay, wake-,"

She sat up with a gasp, her chest heaving and Ressler reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. Liz turned to look up at him with wide eyes and he noticed tears in her eyes, threatening to sill over. Her eyes moved from his concerned ones and swept across the room, stopping briefly at his gun on the shelf. She was trying to place herself, shaking off the final tendrils of the nightmare.

"Liz, you alright?" Ressler sat down by her feet, effectively blocking the gun from her sight, "Hey, you want to talk about it?"

Finally, her eyes settled back on his and she took a deep and shaky breath, the wildness fading from her eyes and her fingers closed over the scar on her wrist.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry I woke you. I'm fine, I just-," She tried to brush it off but Ressler knew by the unsteadiness of her voice and the anguish in her tone that this was more than just a single incidence.

"How long has this been going on for?"

Liz buried her head in her hands, her knees drawn up to her chest, "Since I began to suspect Tom."

"Jesus," Ressler blurted, and tried to hide the alarm on his face but she glanced up and quickly added,

"It doesn't happen every night, but when it does, sometimes it's Tom, Reddington… Meera." She said the last part quietly, as if a louder volume would provoke another upset response from Ressler. She knew he had his own ghosts from her death.

"It was Red this time. Red and Sorenson." She told him blandly. He moved closer and placed a comforting hand on her knee, telling her that she didn't have to share, but he was there if she decided to, "There's something… he needs from me, or needs me for, like I'm somehow the key to his survival. He's never said anything but I know, I can just _feel_ it every time he looks at me… But how can that be? Someone that I've never met my whole thirty years of life and suddenly he comes in and upends everything, all that I've ever known and for what? Because there's some kind of – of a _connection_ between us? He's just using me, and as far as I can see, everything that he does is at my expense and I don't even have the dignity of knowing the faintest reason why." Liz looked at Ressler with such desolation in her expression that he knew of no other way to respond than to pull her to him and wrap his arms securely around her. Liz's fingers clenched around his bare shoulders and she shook with sobs, muffled in the crook of his neck as he pressed his face to her hair (he didn't kiss her hair, no, his lips just happened to be against her head, there was no kissing motion, so it was still entirely in the realm of appropriateness.)

Donald Ressler never considered himself particularly apt in the art of soothing crying people, though he had acquired the necessary basic skills for comforting victims and their families as required for a government agent but he must've done something right with Liz because soon, she quieted down and stopped reaching for tissues (it was also at this point when Ressler realized that he had begun stroking her hair but to stop would mean calling attention to the fact that it had happened in the first place).

She was the one who pulled away first, giving her eyes a final swipe, she smiled a mournful smile up at her partner, "Thank you, Don. I've kept you up and cried all over you. Remind me again, why are you still single?" She tried to joke but a hiccup spoiled her light tone.

Ressler stretched himself out and leaned back on his hands to regard his partner, "Hey, you'd do that for me, but men don't cry, so… Plus, I'm the one who chose to get involved with Red."

That earned him a watery laugh, then Liz looked around, "what time is it?"

A quick glance at his watched told Ressler that it was still too early to begin the day, but too late to get a proper night's sleep if they wanted to make it to the black site at their usual time.

"We've still got a few hours before we need to be up and at it." Ressler told Liz, studying her face as she seemed to contemplate, "Want me to stay?" He asked softly, not daring to look away from her so to not miss any sliver of her response to his offer.

She didn't voice an answer, instead, she pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed as a silent invitation. He moved to lie down between the sheets and without thinking, reached out to smooth the blankets over Liz as she settled back down in the covers. She turned on her side to face him and he quickly withdrew his arm back to his side.

"Do you ever wish that he never existed? Then we never would've lost them…" She whispered, her eyes searching his. He understood "them" to mean Audrey and Tom and he let his eyes trace the contours of her face, taking in how her lashes curled just so, how her nose was still tinged pink from all the tissues, and how her lips seemed perpetually dragged own in the corners as of late.

"Not particularly." He finally responded and reached over her to shut off the light. She shifted closer to him the barest of inches and he took one last long glance at her before turning on his back.

"Goodnight, Liz." He breathed into the darkness and his pinkie dared to brush against the side of her palm but her breaths had already evened out into the long sighs of sleep.


	8. Car Rides and Offered Wine

**Disclaimer: The Blacklist isn't mine**

Continuation of Wine Glasses and Offered Rides

* * *

"What's wrong?" Reddington asked immediately once Liz opened the door to the sleek sedan.

"Nothing. Thanks for coming to get me." Liz said with a final tone, hoping –in vain- that Red would leave her alone just his one time. She had tried to wipe the ghosts of her argument with Ressler from her face but she knew that only time would fade the red rimming her eyes and as good as she considered her poker face to be, Red's ability to read people and worm out a story was much better.

He had the courtesy to wait until Liz shut the door and settled into her seat before he pressed again, "Lizzie, tell me what's wrong. Did the party not go as planned? Are they alienating you?"

But Liz couldn't meet his eyes. Instead, she chose to look out the window as a familiar looking associate of Red's –presumably Dembe's stand-in for the night- pulled away from the curb and began driving away from the Coopers' home.

"Elizabeth."

"It's nothing. It's a private matter." Liz told him, automatically and monotonously, "I'm just tired and need some sleep."

Thankfully, Reddington was quiet then, only speaking up once they were halfway to Liz's motel, "Perhaps a nightcap, then. I've always found that the best companion for nights like these is a good, locally made red wine. It ties you into the local culture and gives you a smooth ending to the night, warming you up before you close out the evening. What will it be, Lizzie? I've always known you to be partial to a nice glass of Chardonnay."

"Thanks, Red, but I'd really rather head back to the motel and rest." She replied shortly but not rudely.

"Another night then."

When they had finally pulled up to the motel, Reddington made her promise to call if she changed her mind and Liz bid both him and his driver a good night. On her way up to her room, she took a perfunctory scan and confirmed that yes, the single woman was still in her room on the first level, blinds cracked open to catch the movements of anyone on the stairs, the college boy was in his car, radio playing soft enough to hear any new tired crunches pulling into the motel lot and the middle-aged couple in the room across the lot from Liz's second story room were still up, the TV flashes lighting up the dim room ever so often. All were surveillance and safeguards put in place to ensure that Liz didn't run into trouble so soon after her name had been cleared.

She had just gotten out of the shower when she heard the pounding on her door. Liz quickly slipped into her sleep shorts and a hoodie. She approached the door, arming herself with her trusty sidearm, though if someone truly wanted to hurt her, they would've long broken in by now.

One glance through the peephole confirmed that her late night visitor was no other than Donald Ressler, the absolute last person she wanted to see again that night. Liz considered ignoring him, but she knew how damn persistent Ressler could be, especially when it came to personal matters (which this definitely was).

"Ressler." Liz swung open the door with considerable force, causing him to lurch forward mid-knock, "What are you going here?" She asked coolly.

"We need to talk." He reeled off stubbornly, his face settling in to one of utmost mulishness.

Liz grimaced, "I think I made it quite clear that I wasn't in the mood to talk." She began to shut the door but in a move no doubt learned from Liz herself, Ressler pivoted himself into the room with a wedge, push and slide, "Ressler-,"

"Fine, you don't have to talk, just listen because if I don't say something-,"

Liz finally looked squarely up at him and registered his appearance. His usually gelled-to-perfection hair had been fully tousled, as if fingers hand been run through it in distress. His sleeves had been pushed unevenly up his forearms, in the manner of a man who had given up his penchant for control and his face held a certain degree of gauntness that was the mark of a long-suffering man, slave to his own emotions. Nevertheless, he held himself more attentively than ever and Liz wouldn't have been the top of her class if she didn't acknowledge it as a ruse to disguise his overall defeated disposition.

He took her silence as acceptance, "Liz, when you were gone, I-I had no idea when you were coming back." He stared, watching her carefully but she didn't even move an inch.

"You're not just my partner, and I-," He stopped again, and Liz huffed, turned to drop down on the bed. This was clearly going to take a while so she might as well make herself comfortable.

Ressler copied her movements, taking a seat in the armchair across from her, "Liz you have no idea how much I missed- still miss- you. I would do anything for the whole thing not to have happened."

 _Well, there's the regret._

"If only I could've been there to stop you from shooting Connelly-,"

 _Wait, what?"_

"Tom Connelly was crooked. He was as dangerous as Berlin, or Braxton. Do you know what he did to Cooper? Connelly pretended to be our friend, pretended to protect us-," Liz interrupted, her anger flaring up again.

"That doesn't give you the right to shoot an unarmed man." Ressler responded sharply, almost automatically and Liz saw him slump instantly upon hearing his own words.

She blinked back tears (damn it, why did those stupid tears have to keep coming back?) and forced a laugh, "I don't believe it. You still see him as a victim."

Ressler buried his face in his hands, his elbows resting heavily on his knees, "Damn it. This is not how this was supposed to go. Liz, I'm sorry, but-,"

She stood up abruptly and back away from him, suddenly feeling the need to put as much distance between them as possible, "Do you know why I shot him? What made me finally pull the trigger?" Liz didn't even wait for him to look back up again before continuing, "It's because he threatened you. He knew about your addiction and was going to expose it. You would've lost everything- your job, your badge, you good name-," Her voice wavered and cracked and Liz tried to steady herself by wrapping her arms tightly around herself, protecting herself from the repercussions of her words.

His blue eyes were fixed intently on her now and he rose slowly, brow furrowed as he covered the distance between them with a few long strides. Ressler reached for her but Liz flinched away.

" _Don't_ touch me." She snapped but his hands caught her arms nonetheless, steadying her in a way that his presence always grounded her.

"Liz, don't you see? I lost everything the moment you shot him. I've lost people before but you were always at my side then."

She stopped struggling and raised her eyes to meet his, her breath catching in her throat. He was looking down at her with such great intensity and _emotion_ that she couldn't help but feel like she was drowning in deep pools of cerulean that were his eyes. She watched him and waited, chest heaving with suppressed anger and the deep-rooted hurt that had been eating away at her since the party.

"Liz." He repeated in a softer voice, his eyes never leaving hers, "These past few months… I missed you so damn much. I was so alone and I- I nearly went crazy." His eyes pleaded with hers, "I nearly shot Samar-,"

"But you made up for it by sleeping with her afterwards." Liz cut in but with less venom than before. She slid out of his grasp and took a small step back.

"Then I fired her." He relied archly, "but you know, it would've have been such a big deal if it were you because you've always trusted me much more than she ever will. My bullet never would've hit her and you would've known since you trust how true my aim is.

Liz watched him with an air of incredulity (because while it was true that she trusted Ressler with her life and more, and he had indeed saved her multiple times with his marksmanship, now was really not the time to be bragging). He backtracked quickly,

"You know, I'm not good with my words, Liz. The point is, I didn't only miss you- I needed you. It was hard enough chasing a colleague without you by my side, even worse was chasing the one person I trust so implicitly and you were running from me. Like I was the bad guy. And you went to everyone but me. You went to _Tom_ for fuck's sake."

"I did it all to protect you." Liz whispered, afraid that if she spoke any louder, her words would crumbled her former partner who was looking more vulnerable than she ever thought he could.

"All I ever wanted was to protect you and bring you home safely."

And Liz thought back to the time at the embassy, how Ressler had watched her through the iron-wrought gates, how he had stepped in front of the embassy sedan and drawn his gun, at the brink of staring WWIII and possessing a certain wildness that she had only seen traces of when he had cornered Jonica. She thought of his pleading phone calls, the look on his face when he tackled her to the ground and arrested her, something caught between desolation and frustration. She remembered how vigilant he had been, guarding her after her arrest and release, the fierce determinism constant in his stance, the look of utter relief every time his eyes fell upon her again, as if reminding himself that she was still there, just as alive and safe as she was when he had last checked, five minutes ago.

"You left and I was so alone. So when Samar offered-," He continued in a low voice but Liz shut her eyes as if that would shut out his words and stop the piercing sensation in her chest, "I thought you wouldn't have wanted me to be so lonely. I had just found out that everyone was working with Tom, that you chose him over coming to me. You trusted him more."

"No, I couldn't compromise-,"

"My principles were long compromised before that. Besides, they're useless now." He let out a low laugh and Liz looked up to meet his eyes again. His eyes searched hers and she barely had time to turn away before two tears slid down her cheeks.

Ressler stepped tentatively closer to her and gently turned Liz back to him, his thumbs wiping away the moisture on her cheeks. "It was all just a release. Something to take my mind off things. I was too emotional and I needed an escape. But if I had known you would be this upset, I never would've slept with her."

She couldn't bring herself to acknowledge that he had been right; Liz never would've wanted her partner to be in such isolation after Liz had gone on the lam with Red. Even so, it still hurt thinking of her two coworkers together.

"Liz?" His voice jolted her from her thoughts and she looked back up at him again. His brow was knit in concern, his face settling into the lines of a frown that she had grown so familiar with when she'd first met Donald Ressler.

Liz raised a hand to lightly cup his jaw for a few seconds, "I missed you too, Don. And I'm so sorry. But I still need some time. And someone's gotta apologize to poor Aram." Her thumb swiped across his smooth cheek and Liz backed out of his grasp gently. Meanwhile, his eyes searched her face frantically and Liz knew he was wondering if he had said something wrong, wondering if he, in fact, hadn't said all the right things (which he had, in Ressler standards) and left something out (well, she could fill in the gaps in his words pretty well by now).

Liz sighed, "Ressler," (maybe it was the use of his first name that had been too much and now he was scared of crossing boundaries, in typical Ressler fashion) "It's fine. We just-. No matter what happened and no matter what we say, we can't just go back to the way things were. Everything is different now and we need to adjust to that."

Liz walked toward the door, "Go home. Get some sleep. I'll see you in the office on Monday."

She turned to look at him and saw that he hadn't moved. A look of total befuddlement crossed his face at how quickly the conversation had just ended.

"Ressler, I wasn't kidding before. I'm exhausted." She prompted him.

He cleared his throat, "Right, well, goodnight then." He moved toward the door and stopped just in front of Liz. He looked at her, a spark of hope slowly lighting up his eyes, an easy half-smile working its way to his face. He stepped forward, as if to kiss her, or hug her and Liz raised an arm touch him but changed her mind and dropped it.

The stood like that for a couple of moments, each too scared and unsure to make the first move to change the nature of their relationship, wondering if it was time, or if too much had already transpired that night. Finally, Ressler was the first to break his gaze and open the door.

"I'll see you Monday. Goodnight Liz."

"Goodnight." She shut the door gently behind him and turned to throw herself down on the bed to process everything. But before she could even being to know where to start, the door swung open again and Liz sat up instantly, scrambling for her gun, which she had stupidly left by the door until she realized that it was Ressler who had just burst in.

"Ressler, what-?" Before she could finish, he had already crossed the room and had her face in his hands and his lips were on hers. All rational thought escaped Liz as she responded eagerly, sliding her hands up his back to his neck.

"Maybe," She said breathlessly as they broke apart, "You should just consider staying over since it's already this late." Liz turned them so Ressler's back was to the bed and pushed him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

He just gave her a full grin before pulling her back down to him.


	9. Pool Water and Mutual Understandings

**Hello! I'm back again…! Please note that this one-shot is particularly short because I am currently low on inspiration but I really wanted to start writing again!**

 **Anyways, this is taken from the 4x13: "Isabella Stone (No. 34)"**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

She sat on the ambulance floor, watching as Samar and Ressler led Isabella Stone and her associate to the cars. Liz clutched the towel closer to her, suppressing a shiver. While the pool had been warm, the event air was crisp and the slight wind was harsh. Ressler and Samar had arrived on scene just a few minutes after Liz had emerged from the pool and Ressler himself had magnanimously given up the integrity of his leather shoes and his dry shirtsleeves to help pull Liz up from the pool while two SWAT agents grabbed ahold of Dr. Justin Sperry. Ressler then handed her off to the same SWAT agent that held onto her gun with the same efficient and businesslike manner before he went to deal with Charlotte. After holstering her gun and waving down the SWAT agent with a few insistent " _I'm fine_ 's," (which was really ten times the fuss she usually got. Did these men think she was really that much more fragile now that she had successfully grown and produced another human being?) she was able to escort Dr. Sperry's stretcher out to the front of the estate where him and two SWAT agents boarded an awaiting ambulance.

Liz curled her cold toes in her socks as Ressler walked around the police car to find her at her ambulance. As he rounded the ambulance doors, his eyes moving up and down her huddled figure as he appraised her for any obvious signs of injury before he stopped in front of her, she saw the usual furrowed brow, the "unreadable" look he always had before he would start saying words to her.

"Took a little dip, did we?" He raised his eyebrows at her, refusing to mirror the small half smile she wore on her own face.

"I just did what had to be done." Liz replied smoothly, not unlike the way Ressler usually deadpanned his responses.

His facial expression lightened a touch, tucking his hands into his pockets, he relaxed slightly, "You know that's usually my job?" He told her, referring to her act of diving into the pool.

"I know, but you weren't there, so I took it upon myself to be the hero this time." She teased lightly, "Now that I know how it feels again, I don't think I want you to have it back."

Ressler gave her a huff of laughter, "Come on, I'll drive you back. You'll catch a cold like this." He bent to pick up her coat and soaked shoes at the floor of the ambulance while Liz stood and handed her towel back to the paramedics. "But seriously, Keen," Ressler draped her coat over her shoulders as the biting wind made another round across the front yard, "Did you have to splash me so much when I was pulling you out?" He shook out the sleeve of his jacket, showing an unmistakable patch of pool water where Liz had grabbed onto him.

"Hey, if you didn't want to get wet, then don't help me out of a wet pool next time," She retorted as they reached the doors of the Range Rover. "Should we wait for Samar?" Liz asked with a raised voice, nodding over at their fellow agent who was busy talking to a PD officer.

"No," Ressler got into the car and Liz followed suit, clearing her still raw throat from swallowing too much pool water, "I'm sick of talking to her for today."

Liz threw him a knowing looking but didn't say anything. Usually, she would push and prod but she knew better than to pry when it came to Ressler and Samar's relationship. But then Ressler pulled his phone out to check the screen and it struck her.

"Something came up." She stated, the " _in your personal life_ " was implied in her tone. She knew her partner and she knew the way he moved. His actions were tense with something that had nothing to do with the capture of Isabella Stone and expectant look on his face told her it wasn't the usual check if see if Cooper had called.

"Yeah," He grunted, sliding the phone back into his pocket and starting the car.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Liz offered softly as they pulled away from Sperry's estate. As private as they both were, they would sometimes surprise each other with little tidbits from their personal life. Of course, by this point, Ressler and the rest of the task force knew enough of Liz's personal life to write a novel and several companion books along with it.

Ressler sighed, still not looking at her. Instead, he kept his eyes fixated on the road, "It's my family. My brother- he's going under the knife right now."

"Ressler…" Liz watched him, saw the emotions and the agony that were usually concealed so well in the blonde agent's demeanor, "I'm sorry." She said simply and he finally spared her a look.

"Thanks," He said shortly, before returning his focus to the road. And while their exchange was short, it was packed full of meaning and mutual understanding. The two of them had been through enough together to understand what was left unsaid. Liz didn't bother telling him that he should be with his family, screw Reddington, but not wasn't just because she knew that Ressler wouldn't want to hear those words, but because she knew that he already knew those things and he had already been wrestling with those thoughts all day. She also knew on a much deeper level, Ressler was too engaged to his own sense of duty to the job and to sacrifice that would mean another sacrifice of character he worked so hard to cling onto and preserve. She also knew that a person with such a character as Ressler's found it easier to chalk his absence up to the demands of his job rather than sit in a waiting room like another useless and helpless soul, wishing for the elusive news of the best outcome.

And at the same time, Donald Ressler understood that Elizabeth Keen, as a profiler and more importantly as his partner, knew all these things and was suppressing her own character tendencies to appease him and for a moment that knowledge gave him solace, knowing that in his recently reinstated, ex-fugitive partner still knew him better than he knew himself.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! This is me trying to catch as many Keenler nuggets the writers intentionally or unintentionally keep dropping in each episode. As I mentioned before, I'm desperate for inspiration so keep dropping those prompts in the comments or PM them to me!**


	10. Diamonds and Tea

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

"I would argue that it's quite clear what you need to do." Reddington leaned back and appraised Liz with his usual sense of comfort and confidence that only a man that felt well-deserving of it could pull off.

Liz held up her hands, "Wait, so let me get this straight, in order for us to identify the next Blacklister, we need to find a person who is invited to and attends this special tea party that goes by the "The Marchioness" so we can identify which woman is the one that is smuggling blood diamonds and illegal workers between borders?"

"Not blood diamonds, stolen jewels of which include crown jewels from a few different countries and the illegal workers are women and children laborers forced into the sex industry or act as pack mules for cartels. And that is just the beginning of the foundations in which she build her own empire." Reddington tilted his head, "Lizzie, you asked for a Blacklister and here, I gave you one."

Liz pursed her lips and in wry smile and nodded her head slowly, "You're going to steal from her, she accused.

"No," Reddington shook his head, "I have no interest in her blood money. It seems that a few deals have fallen awry recently and it is causing problems and concerns for some of us out there." Liz just raised her eyebrows but Reddington continued, "either you take this Blacklister or don't. But as I told Harold Cooper, I can't just magically pull these criminals out of a hat."

"Fine." Liz stood, slinging her purse back onto her shoulder, "I'll talk to Cooper."

"Good, and give Agent Ressler a warm hello for me," Reddington added, standing up with her. Liz threw him a confused look before turning and saying goodbye to Dembe.

...

"How do we even know that this Blacklister will be at this tea party anyway?" Ressler stood between Aram and Liz, looking between them as they presented their findings, "I mean, other than the fact that Reddington says so?"

"So we've identified five women who consistently attend this afternoon tea, which is actually quite different than high tea, but people seem to get the two confused all the time-,"

"Aram," Cooper reminded gently and the technician cleared his throat before getting back on track.

"Right, so we know that they are regular attendees at the exclusive tea and they have been photographed on many occasions going to the tea together. It's like some sort of special retreat for the wives of powerful men. They're all socialites, so they would never miss an opportunity to brag about their invitation to the tea, it's like a status marker in their community. However, there is no trace of which house this tea is held at, once they enter the ultra-private neighborhood, none of the media cars are able to follow and the address is only known through word of mouth. Actually, I doubt the ladies even know how to get there. My bet is that only the drivers that come and pick them up know how to get there."

"So how do we get in?" Samar squinted up at the satellite image Aram just pulled up and sure enough, the neighborhood was covered in acres of trees, well-groomed lawns and stone gateways with the occasional small lake or pond, "Aram, is there any way you could clear up the image or zoom in?"

Aram gave a quick laugh, "That's the thing, this is the closest and the clearest we can get. Someone in the neighborhood must have paid big money to keep the satellite from taking clear images."

Ressler raised his eyebrows, "I didn't think you could do that,"

"Well, legally, you can't, but anything's possible for the right price." Aram commented offhandedly and Liz smiled at Aram and he caught himself.

"It's the perfect place for a criminal that wants to enjoy a life of luxury." Samar noted.

"Well, I highly doubt this Blacklister would invite all these women into her house like that." Liz pointed out.

"They could all be in on it," Ressler suggested.

Cooper finally spoke up, "With all these public figures involved? No, nothing damages the public image more than a nasty scandal with the law. It would be too hard to hide for this long. Dig in, see if any of these women do have something to tell, that could be our way in." And with that, Cooper dismissed them.

Liz caught up quickly with Ressler as he made a beeline for their office, "Hey Ressler, can we talk?"

"Yeah, what's up, Keen?" He glanced up from his desk as Liz shut the door quietly behind her. She walked slowly away from the door, "Is there something going on between you and Reddington?"

"What?" Ressler turned his full body and attention to her, the file that was in his hand landing with a loud slap on his desk, "what makes you say that?"

Liz looked him square in the eye, "When I left, he told me to tell you 'hello' from him. Is there something going on?"

"Look even if I was, and I'm not saying that I am, it would be none of Reddington's business." He sat down in his chair, pulling closer to his desk as he opened the file, a clearly signaling that the conversation was over.

But Liz was unrelenting. The last time Reddington seemed to offer greetings to Ressler through Liz was when Ressler was addicted to his pills. So she stepped closer to him, her fingertips resting on the top of his desk, "Ressler, are you in trouble?"

"Keen, I'm fine." He reassured her, countering her sever tone with his lighter one, "He's probably just trying to gain some sort of leverage on me so I can be in his debt. Or," A smile graced Ressler's lips as he regarded his partner, "He's siccing you on me because just for the sake of a laugh over my utter discomfort." Ressler held her gaze until she backed down, acknowledging his humor with a small smile. Liz walked over to her desk and sat down, grabbing a pen from the cup on the desk, aware of her partner's eyes following her. She kept her own eyes focused on his desk in front of her.

She hesitated before saying, "I just need to know that you have my back." _Because the last time Ressler was having these personal problems, it had almost gotten her killed in Warsaw and him in Sitka and she was damned if they were going to go out like that due to a couple of miniscule pills after everything else they had survived. But most of all, she just wanted Ressler to be okay, to not be that broken man sitting at the back of an ambulance. To be able to depend on her rather than those white pills._

"Keen. Liz." He waited until she met his eyes. His expression was hard but his eyes were soft, "I will always have your back." He promised her firmly.

...

 _She remembered the first time he had come to her after he had quit cold turkey after Sitka. Liz could help herself, she smirked as she unlocked her motel room door, tucking her gun into the back of her waistband. "So much for kicking it yourself, huh?"_

 _He smirked back, his muscular form filling the door frame, "Shut up. Hey, just don't you try any of that hypnosis stuff on me, yeah?"_

 _"_ _What kind of a psychology nut do you take me to be? Is that a pizza?"_

 _Ressler shoved the box in her direct, "Consider it a housewarming gift."_

 _"_ _Hey,"_

 _He just shrugged, "So we're both messed up. Who can blame us?" He said darkly but she chose to ignore him._

 _"_ _Drink?" She put the pizza on the small table and reached into the dresser._

 _Ressler raised an eyebrow at her, "Tryna turn me into an alcoholic?"_

 _"_ _Right." She grabbed two water bottles instead and tossed one to him, gesturing to the bed, "Sit."_

 _He sank onto the creaky mattress and Hudson, whom he had been petting, jumped on after him, "Jesus, Keen. How long are you planning on staying in this shithole? Hey, bring the pizza too."_

 _Liz handed him the box and climbed onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard. Ressler moved back until he was sitting next to her. And as amusing as it was to see Ressler scooting backwards on a bed with a pizza box in one hand, she was more amused to see that the pizza had mushrooms on it, a topping she knew Ressler would never ask for unless she requested it._

 _Ressler gazed up at her ceiling and shook his head, "Keen, if I didn't know better, then I'd say you've gone off your rocker." Liz watched as his eyes traced back and forth between all the documents and pictures, the same her hers had done hundreds of times before._

 _"_ _I thought we were here to talk about you," She said pointedly, pushing Hudson away from the box on Ressler's lap._

 _"_ _Hey," He pointed a fresh slice of pizza at her, "I never said that."_

 _They chatted about nothing in particular until the pizza was gone and their bottles of water were drained, content on just having another person next to them to distract them from the bleakness of their surroundings, someone else to watch their back for a night. At one point, Liz found herself slumped against the bed, with Hudson's head resting on her thigh and her own resting against Ressler's broad shoulder. She looked sleepily at the flashing TV, then down at her hand, where Ressler's fingers rested on top and the slight movement of her head made her realize that it was his cheek that was pressed against the top of her head. Judging by the rise and fall of his chest, he was still awake. Liz smiled sleepily before dozing off again. Just for that night, she would indulge in this stolen moment._

 _..._

"Hey," Samar knocked on the door frame to their office, "I found a lead." Liz looked up, relieved and shoved aside the files on her desk to stand and follow Ressler out of their office.

"Daniela Boyle, married to George Boyle, a venture capitalist among other things," Aram announced, pulling up their files on the big screen, "She's your way in. Mrs. Boyle is the chairwoman of this…club, which organizes various charity galas, luncheons; she knows everyone in the game. She's the gatekeeper, the shepherdess, the Jackie Kennedy of the socialites and other public figures. If you get in good with her, you'll earn yourself an automatic ticket into their community."

"Do her and her husband have any sort of track record?" Ressler asked, accepting the file from Samar as she passed it to him.

"Nothing solid. His company's being watched by the SEC but no formal action was every taken and they haven't gone as far as to flag him or his company. Their personal financials and those of the charities have checked out so far, nothing questionable enough to draw any real attention. Nothing out of the ordinary in the press, either. I have yet to find a scandal or accusation."

Liz gazed at their profiles on the screen, "They both come from money, we've got to assume that if anything ever did go sideways in their lives, their lawyers and any press advisors from their families would have made sure to cover it up." Liz pointed up at the candid shots of Daniela at various functions, "Daniela, she seems like a queen bee. She would demand the utmost loyalty from her followers. Anyone who questioned her… they would be shunned, cut off from the rest of the group."

Ressler threw her an amused glance, "Kinda like Reddington, huh?" Liz shared a small smile with him before turning back to Aram.

"Married for three years now and still no kids? Is there any possibility of affairs?" She wondered aloud. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Quickly excusing herself, she answered a few feet away, "Keen."

"Lizzie. How are you doing with the case?" Reddington asked pleasantly.

"We've found a possible in. Daniela Boyle. She's married to a venture capitalist name George Boyle. It's going to be difficult, if they really are dirty, they've gone through a lot of pains to make sure they look absolutely clean." She reported, watching the discussion from afar.

"Those names don't ring any bells. But if you are going to do something, you have to move quickly. The word on the street is that the tea is going to take place in the next week or so. Good luck, Lizzie."

Liz sighed and walked back, "Bad news, Reddington said the time frame to capture this Marchioness is closing quickly. The tea is supposed to occur sometime this week, and if we don't find her by then, she'll be gone until who knows when."

"Great, and I don't supposed Reddington can give us a specific day?" Ressler asked scornfully, but Liz knew he already had his answer to that question.

"We've got no useful leads. At least, nothing we can run down within the time span of a week." Samar reasoned.

"We go undercover." Liz said firmly as realization dawned on her. "That way, we can go in, talk to Daniela and the others without arousing suspicion by dragging them in and questioning them."

...

"Undercover?" Cooper removed his glasses and fixed Liz with his familiar steady gaze.

"Yes sir, it's the best shot we have at the moment. Reddington says that after the tea, thereis no telling where The Marchioness will disappear to and what deals she will have made by then." Liz told him, returning his steady gaze to show her certainty. "I can go in as an aspiring socialite, an admirer of Daniela, looking for a mentor." She folded her hands in her lap.

"And you?" Cooper nodded at Ressler who was leaning against the wall of Cooper's office with his arms folded.

"Her fiancée." Ressler responded without missing a beat. Cooper looked back at Liz and she could barely contain her excitement. The Assistant Director sat back in his chair, appraising his two agents.

"It's a tight timeline."

"Yes sir, we know. Aram's already found a location and an opportunity." Liz said earnestly.

"There isn't a lot of time for you to establish your covers."

"I'm sure we can manage, sir." Ressler said and Liz could her the smirk in his voice.

...

"I didn't know there was such a thing as 'Saturday Afternoon Drinks'." Liz mused as she fingered the stem of her wine glass.

"Sure there is. It's called College Football and beer." Ressler replied easily. The two agents were seated in what was the Boyle's favorite drinks spot which they frequented on Saturdays. Both Liz and Ressler were dressed for their parts, Liz in a soft blue wrap dress with matching teetering heels with her partner across from her, scotch in hand with a navy suit jacket, a pressed white shirt casually undone at the top and khakis. His eyes focused on the top of Liz's head, "And remind me again, what in name of hell is that?"

Liz stopped herself from instinctively reaching up to touch the small matching hat ensemble, "It's a hat," She hissed, "Reddington insisted it would add a sense of dignity and class. The British all wear them at formal outings."

Ressler frowned, looking away as he took a sip, "It looks ridiculous." He declared.

Liz glared at him, "look around you, over half the women here are wearing them. And Aram said he liked it."

"Aram doesn't know what he's talking about."

But Liz smiled, remembering how when they climbed into the surveillance van, Aram had commented how good they had looked and noted that they would fit in well with the other couples on the patio and how the tips of Ressler's ears had turned pink.

"Hey, heads up, here they come." Ressler leaned in closer to Liz at their small round table and smiled at her. Liz angled her head towards him in a more intimate angle. Liz had made sure that they were given the table that Aram insisted was the Boyles' favorite. Sure enough, as Liz was taking a sip from her wine glass (still smiling sweetly at Ressler) there was the delicate sound of a throat clearing. Turning around, Liz noticed that the overall atmosphere on the patio had stiffened slightly, the other patrons on the patio seemed to have pulled themselves up at attention and some were eyeing Liz and Ressler's table discreetly.

Liz set down her glass and looked up, "Oh, I'm sorry, is this your usual table? No wonder the hostess was so reluctant when I requested it." Then she gasped, "Oh my goodness, I'm sorry, but are you Daniela Boyle?"

The woman standing before her lifted her eyebrows delicately, "I am. I'm sorry, have we met?"

Liz pressed a hand to her chest and rose to her feet, "I'm so sorry, my name is Liz. Liz Milhoan, this is my fiancé, Don." Ressler stood to shake their hands, "I've heard so much about you! I'm a huge admirer of your work with the children's hospital and your charity galas you organize… $5 million just at the pre-reception? Amazing. I'm an event planner myself."

"And what line of work are you in, Don?" George asked, patting his wife hand that was wrapped around her husband's arm soothingly, but Liz didn't see it as a sign of comfort, rather, an indication. _But to what?_

"Shipping." Ressler replied smoothly, pulling out a business card from his breast pocket and pressing it into George's free hand in one fluid motion. _Donald Ressler looks, feels and smells like a cop,_ Reddington had once said, but watching her partner, Liz had to admit that he was doing quite well so far. Just enough suave and shiftiness to fit in.

"Shipping?" Daniela repeated dubiously and Liz watched as her eyes traveled down to Liz's hand and caught on the big diamond on her finger.

Liz placed the same hand on Ressler's forearm and Daniela's eyes followed the stone the whole way. "Don specializes in brokering deals and preparing documentation. He's got an eye for all that legal nonsense." Liz told them sweetly, not missing the swift look Daniela shot her husband.

"So you must be new to town? I haven't seen you around." Daniela noted pleasantly.

Liz slid her hand off Ressler's arm but before she could pull away completely, his fingers caught onto hers and he linked them loosely, "We moved here just one and a half weeks ago." Ressler answered, his thumb tracing lightly over the back of her hand and Liz felt a slight flutter in her belly.

"Yes, and let me tell you, it's been awfully hard to make new friends here." She said conspiratorially to Daniela, giving Ressler's fingers a light but noticeable squeeze.

Daniela and George exchanged looks, "We're having a party at our estate tomorrow evening." George started.

"You must come." Daniela insisted and Liz looked over at Ressler. He stared back into her eyes for a second before nodding and Liz beamed back at the couple.

"We'll be there." Liz promised.

"Come on, sweetie. We better get going and let Daniela and George have their table back." Ressler placed his hands on the small of her back, gesturing to one of the waitstaff with his other hand. Liz pulled a business card of out her clutch and handed it to Daniela, "Give me a call. It was a pleasure to meet you both."

Ressler's light hand on her back guided her out of the establishment and onto the sidewalk. Liz leaned in closer to Ressler as they walked so she could speak quietly to him, "Did you see the way they looked at each other when you mentioned you were in shipping? Good move, Ressler." She looked up to see him looking down at her with smug smile.

"I got the idea from Reddingon. Seems to be the 'in' thing these days. It's one thing if you can obtain contraband, it's another to be able to move it to where you want it to go." He increased the pressure of his hand on her back, urging her to cross the street to the flower delivery van parked at the door. Once they reached the van, the doors swung open and Aram helped Liz up, Ressler following close behind.

"That seemed to go well." Samar noted as she climbed into the driver seat.

"We've secured an invitation to a party of the Boyles' for tomorrow night." Liz told them, "Aram, will you look into any kind of shipping activity the Boyles might be engaging in, for business or personal purposes? Maybe from her charities or his clients."

"So you're going to their party tomorrow? You think the Marchioness might be there?" Samar asked, as she started the van. Aram finished packing up his equipment and moved to the makeshift seats on the side of the van.

"Maybe. It would at least allow us to see if there's anything linked to the Marchioness' dealings and the Boyles. Who knows, maybe Daniela Boyle is The Marchioness. Either way, I think we've secured our covers as Don and Liz, a loving couple on their way to earn a fortune one way or another." Ressler told them, leaning over to help Liz buckle up. Liz watched him, wondering if he was still caught up in their cover and she looked up to see Aram's slightly surprised, mostly bemused look and she turned quickly back to Ressler to see he reaction but he only had eyes for her.

"Keen, would you _please_ take that stupid hat off now?"

...

Liz drank in the sight of the elaborate manor, bathed in numerous lights along the stone paved drive and the small garden lights pointing up at it, like little spotlights. There were only a few cars parked along the drive, the rest of the drivers waited on the outside of the gates. Ressler parked the car in the cal de sac, but before he could walk around to Liz's side, a handsomely dressed man opened her door and offered his arm.

"Ms. Milhoan? Mrs. Boyle is waiting for you inside." He handed Liz off to Ressler to ascend the steps to the front door, where another man was waiting to open the doors for them.

 _Oh my god._ Liz mouthed to Ressler and he lifted his eyebrows in response, mirroring her own impressed look. They took one step and inside and they were suddenly in the most elaborate party they had ever seen. Floor length gowns, glittering gems, shiny shoes and crisp bow ties surrounded them and Liz was beyond relieved that Reddington had insisted on dressing them. While her and Ressler's wardrobes contained dress appropriate enough for embassy parties and state dinners, they were nothing as ostentatious as what the scene in front of the held. Liz unconsciously inched closer to Ressler to avoid a waiter bobbing past with a tray of intricate looking hors d'oeuvres that looked like it was assembled with a pair of needle tweezers. Ressler tugged her closer as they ventured a couple more steps into the party so she could feel his body heat through her burgundy gown and his cologne enveloped her, his scent luring her into a sense of security.

"Hey," Ressler leaned his face toward her and although his voice was soothing, Liz felt her head speed up as his breath brushed across her cheek, "It's alright," He spoke in her ear, "Just focus on placing the bugs and finding Daniela." His lips landed on her cheek and she leaned into it for a second. To anyone else, they appeared to be a couple just sharing an intimate moment in the midst of a party.

Ressler quickly pulled away, grabbing two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, he handed one to Liz and clinked his glass against hers, "Ready?" He asked.

Liz nodded, taking a small sip. Ressler's hand found its new familiar position on her back and they made their way deeper into the party. A few heads turned to scrutinize the new couple, but Liz was confident that for the most part, no one seemed to know exactly who everyone else was.

"Liz! Don!" Daniela came down the large staircase in the foyer, and the sea of people seemed to part in front of her as she made her way towards the undercover agents. It was probably a good thing since her gown seemed to contain layers upon layers of tulle, embedded with Swarovski crystals and satin, creating a wide skirt.

"Daniela, thank you for inviting us! Your home is _gorgeous._ " Liz gushed, pulling away from Ressler to throw her arms open when Daniela got close enough to embrace. "I've been telling Donnie that we should build a home like this after we get married." Liz fell back into Ressler's arms, placing her ring hand on Ressler's chest, showing off the diamond bracelet that Reddington had loaned her for the night. Just as expected, Daniela's eyes sought out Liz's jewelry, subtly scrutinizing, determining their worth, and therefore, Liz's worth.

"Come to the kitchen, I'll give you my contractor's name and there are some ladies that I'd like you to meet. We're very eager to have you join us for our gala planning, I hope you don't mind, I showed some of the ladies your work in the news and they are very impressed." Daniela told her and Liz made a mental note to thank Aram for his beautifully planted articles. "George and his men are all upstairs in the study, second door to the left. You can't miss it, just follow the smell of scotch and cigars." Daniela told Ressler with a little fluttering motion of her hand. Ressler grinned knowingly, expertly placing his champagne on the tray of a passing waiter and Daniela beamed back before turning around in the direction of the kitchen. Liz made a moved to follower her but Ressler seemed to have other plans. His fingers grasped her elbow and he pulled her flush against his chest, planting his lips squarely on hers, his hand snaking around her lace-covered waist while her free hand came to rest on his bicep. Daniela turned around in time to see Ressler pull away from their lingering kiss and Liz swipe her thumb across his lips, affectionately wiping away any traces of lipstick. Liz's head reeled from that unexpected (and unexpectedly good) kiss as she stepped away from her partner, a little unsteady in her heels.

"I'll be upstairs if you need me, darling." Ressler told her in his deep and calm voice _and damn it, how was that man so unaffected by the fact he just kissed me like that in a crowded room. Ressler must be much better at this undercover thing than he let on._ Ressler gave Daniela a small smile before excusing himself and disappearing into the crowd.

"Well, just look at how sweet you lovebirds are. You'll have to tell me all about your wedding plans." Daniela cooed before traipsing into the dining room, Liz hurrying behind, trying to get rid of the faint blush on her cheeks. She deposited her glass on an empty tray by the kitchen and when she walked into the kitchen behind Daniela, she was glad that she had done so. The atmosphere in the kitchen was drastically different than that of the party. With the waitstaff's staging area in the back half of the kitchen, the front half with the island counter was taken up by a handful of women, some sitting but most standing. While the rest of the house was alive to the sound of soft jazz and the clink of expensive glasses and tinkling laughter, the crowd a melting pot of prominent figures schmoozing each other, the air in the kitchen was much calmer, more restrained, not a single glass of champagne or wine in sight. The singular item on the counter was a tablet in front of a woman sitting near the middle and she locked the screen once Liz stepped into the room. The rest of the ladies held themselves in such a poised manner, bordering professional, and while they all seemed to know one another, none of them seemed to be 100% at ease, a stark contrast to the boozy behavior of the outside guests.

"Ladies, this is Liz Milhoan. She's the event planner I was telling you about." Daniela nudged Liz forward and a couple of the younger women came forward to introduce themselves, pulling Liz closer to the group. Daniela took her own place at the end of the counter, at the head of the table.

"My, what a beautiful bracelet! And that _ring_." Liz's hand was lifted for all to see and the diamond sparkled under the counter lights. Liz couldn't help but notice the way some of the women's eyes gleamed hungrily as they appraised her get-up.

"Your fiancée must have quite the job to be able to spoil you like this. Is he a venture capitalist like George? Oh, don't tell me- he's a plastic surgeon. Lord knows we could use another one of those around here." The woman that had introduced herself as Louise smiled loftily at the ladies around the counter who laughed lightly at the inside joke.

Liz smiled graciously, "Actually, Don's in the shipping business."

"Shipping?" The woman with the tablet spoke up, "I never knew shipping could be so lucrative."

"Jill." Daniela reprimanded with a sharp look at the women, before turning to Liz with a softer look on her face, "My younger sister." She explained almost apologetically.

Liz waved her hand, "Oh, no. It's okay. Let's just say that Don has a knack for finding certain…untapped markets and he's very good at arranging successful partnerships with a diverse group of clients." Liz said slowly and she saw a few lips twist up into knowing smiles.

They continued to drill Liz with questions about herself, where she had been educated, where Don had worked previously, the kind of cut Liz was planning to wear for her wedding. Once the women seemed satisfied, Liz could sense their anticipation to carry on with whatever they were discussion earlier so she excused herself, asking the direction for the restroom to freshen her lipstick. On her way out, she dug her lipstick out of her clutch and sent it skidding across the floor. The ladies had lost interest in her, but nevertheless, Liz used her body to hide her hand as she fastened a bug to the bottom of a shelf holding a pretty vase. Weaving through the crowds, she made her way up the staircase, following the smell of cigars, into George's study. She let an easy smile grace her lips as she sauntered deeper into the large study/library, feeling the intrigued eyes of the eligible gentlemen on her.

She spotted Ressler standing behind a stately desk with George, her partner holding up his hand to the offered cigar, "No thanks, I knew a good man who died of lung cancer." Finally, Ressler turned to see Liz headed his way and a broad smile broke across his face, "Hi sweetie, what are you doing here?"

"I came to see how you were getting along with the boys." Liz told him, sidling between him and the desk, smoothing his lapel with one hand, bracing herself against the desk with her other. Ressler leaned in and pecked her on the cheek.

"I already placed one." He breathed before straightening up again and Liz closed her fingers to her palm, brushing them back into the folds of her skirt.

"So have you picked a date?" George asked, smiling as he looked between the two of them.

Ressler's arm circled around her waist again and she leaned in, catching a strong whiff of scotch on his breath, "Oh, we're just looking for the perfect venue now." Ressler told George, and Liz smiled at George, plucking the glass from Ressler's hand and setting it down on the desk. Ressler gave her a very displeased _…Ressler_ look for taking his drink.

 _Yeah, I really should know better than to get between Ressler and a good drink._

"Don, honey, I told you there are some details that we still need to discuss before we come to a decision together." Liz said innocently, staring hard into his blue eyes.

"Okay, Lizzie," He conceded, "The things I do for this one," He said in a low voice to George and Liz couldn't suppress her eye roll.

Eventually, the guests trickled out while George was giving Liz and Ressler a tour of the house. When almost everyone had left, and the live band had finished loading their truck, Liz found Daniela in the kitchen, directing the waitstaff as they packed up their supplies in the kitchen. She waited until the last couple had said their goodbyes and exited before going up to the hostess.

"Daniela, can I help?" Liz gestured to the tiers of the picked-through delicacies that they hostess was busy clearing off.

"Oh, Liz! You're still here. I'm glad you stayed, we never really got a chance to chat. Please, I would appreciate your help. If you could finish clearing off these plates, I'll start putting some of the china away."

Liz busied herself with the plates, her back to Daniela, "I hope you don't mind me saying, but you throw one hell of a party."

"Thank you, but really, It's just years of experience. Where's Don? I expect he' still upstairs with George?" Daniela asked over the steady clink of china as she loaded the plates and glasses into the large glass door cabinet.

"Oh, I think George is showing him his collection of something or the other. The wine cellar, maybe? I lost track." Liz and Daniela shared a knowing laugh.

"Men," Daniela murmured but it was so quiet that Liz barely caught it. "You know," She said louder, "the ladies really loved you. In fact, they kept asking about you after you went upstair-"

Suddenly, the rhythmic clinking of china stopped and was replaced by the sharp sound of shattering glass, followed by the echoing clang, like a metal tray was being knocked to the floor.

"Daniela, are you- _ugh,_ " Liz turned around but before she could see what was happening, a flat and shiny object came hurtling at her face, and then there was nothing.

"Liz! Liz are you okay? Come on, let's get you up. _Liz_." She opened her eyes to see Ressler's face in front of hers, his blue eyes screwed up in concern. "Are you okay? Can you stand?"

"Daniela," Liz shook her head, trying to get rid of the ringing in her ears but she stopped quickly, feeling the pounding in her head worsen at the movement. "Help me up," she gasped, clutching at Ressler's arms.

"Careful, you're covered in glass. What happened? Where's Daniela?" Ressler gripped her shoulders and pulled her up, shaking her skirt to get rid of the shards of glass from a broken plate.

"It sounded like there was a struggle," Liz told him, grasping onto his lapels as she straightened up, shaky in her stilettos. "Where's George?"

"I don't know, he went to go check something in his study and when I heard glass breaking, I went in there but he was gone. Then I came downstairs and that's when I saw you lying there. The whole house is empty, Liz." Ressler told her has he helped her stumble into the dining room.

"We need to get out of here. Something's not right." Liz told him, "Did you call it in?" she asked as they reached the foyer.

Ressler shook his head, "I wasn't sure what was going on. I didn't want to blow our cover-," They reached the front doors and he flung them open but then paused, letting go of Liz. He took a step forward as Liz reached over to clutch at the door jamb, both analyzing the scene in front of them. Both men that had been stationed at the door were now sprawled across the steps to the house, unconscious. One man had a small pool of blood under his head, the other's arm was flung out in an unnatural angle. Ressler descended the steps quickly, crouching down to check them.

"They're alive." He reached into his pocket, quickly pulling out his phone and pressing his speed dial before pressing it to his ear. He walked back up the steps and reached out to Liz while she kept her eyes fixed into the darkness, watchful. "Liz, come on, we gotta get into the car- we're unarmed out here." But a faint crunching sound in the darkness drew her attention.

"Ressler, look." Farther up the deserted drive, Liz saw a shape moving, the path in front of it illuminated.

"It's a truck." Ressler squinted out into the darkness as he steered Liz in the direction of their car, his hand hovering at her back in case she stumbled. They reached the car, Ressler instantly starting it as Liz leaned forward, pulling out the false front of her foot rest to reveal a small bag containing their guns, badges and two flashlights. She pulled her phone out of her clutch before throwing it in the backseat of their sedan. Ressler sped down the drive and Liz cursed herself for not bringing a change of clothes, or at least, a change of shoes.

"Aram, it's me. Listen, I think the Boyles have been kidnapped. Ressler and I are in pursuit of a black van, heading south out of the neighborhood, I can't get a good look at the plates, they seem to be covered in dirt-," Liz was cut off as Ressler took a sharp turn down the winding path of the neighborhood and Liz had to scramble to brace herself against her door. Ressler threw a quick apologetic look and a mumbled "sorry."

"-I need you to send a forensic team to the Boyle's house, and an ambulance. Their security is unconscious but alive on their doorstep." They had pulled onto the empty county road now and the van was still a considerable distance ahead of them. "We're still headed south towards the city on the county road- _Ressler!"_ Liz screamed. She saw the two figures on the side of the road before the van did and with a terrible thud and resounding crunch, the vehicle was brought to a halt. Ressler swerved onto the shoulder to avoid crashing into the back of the truck.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Aram asked anxiously.

"They hit a deer. Aram, send PD to our location. I gotta go." Liz hung up and handed Ressler the combination of gun, badge and flashlight. She nodded to her partner and they stepped out of the car, guns raised. In the distance, the faint wail of sirens grew closer.

"FBI! Stick your hands out of the window, slowly!" Ressler shouted as he approached the vehicle from the driver's side, with Liz on the passenger side. Liz grimaced at the sight of the deer splayed across the hood of the van, jutting into the cracked windshield. Both men in the truck were passed out, covered in blood, likely both theirs and the deer's, the driver dressed in all black and the passenger in the same attire that all the waiters at the party sported. The airbags had deployed and glass was scattered around.

"Trunk," Ressler ordered and Liz nodded, circling back. She grasped the handle of one of the doors while Ressler got in position. With another nod from her partner, she swung open the door.

"What the…" Ressler muttered under his breath and Liz came around, her gun raised but she lowered it as she saw the figure of George Boyle cowering in the corner of an otherwise empty van. Her eyes travelled over his figure, completely unscathed, no restraints, blinking against the glare of their flashlights. Liz exchanged a look with Ressler as the flashing sirens illuminated their silhouettes.

...

"George, your wife is _missing_ , do you hear me? Daniela was taken and you need to tell us what you know so we can find her." Liz urged the tuxedo-ed man sitting across the table from her.

"I already told you- I don't know anything! _I'm_ the victim. I was kidnapped too!" Boyle insisted and Liz sighed, shaking her head.

"Listen to me, pal. Your wife was taken in a struggle and here there is no sign of a single scratch on your body. We found you in the back of a van with no restraints, do you really expect us to believe that you weren't involved? The drivers of that van will be waking up any minute now and I'm gonna bet that they'll be more helpful than you. Ressler pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against and slowly approached Boyle as he spoke. Ressler and Liz had both changed into more casual clothes once they got back to the Post Office, leaving Boyle to stew nervously in the interrogation room. Liz watched with faint amusement as Ressler came up behind Boyle and rested one hand on the back of his chair, the other in the table in front of the man. It was the classic fight for dominance, and while Ressler emanated strength and authority from his gray tshirt-clad form, the once confident George Boyle shrunk in his tuxedo like a high school boy on his prom night.

"Enough." Liz stood, "If you're complicit, we'll find out soon enough. Just remember, _George_." Liz said sweetly, waiting until the man looked up and met her eyes, "you don't talk, then you don't get a deal. I hear they like pretty rich boys in prison." She said quietly before turning and stalking out of the room. Ressler hovered over Boyle for a few more moments before leaving the room, but not before he threw one last glowering look at him.

"Stop." Liz chided as her partner matched her step back towards the war room, "you're going to make him wet his pants."

"Good." Ressler gave a low chuckle.

Liz frowned, deep in though as they reached the end of the hallway, "I genuinely don't believe that he knows where Daniela is being held. He doesn't seem the type to betray his wife so completely. He may have been involved in some extent, but judging by how confused he is, Boyle doesn't know any real details."

Ressler threw her a look, but she ignored him, not wanting to get into the personals of her own experiences. "Well, he isn't particularly bright, I can tell you that." He told Liz, rapping his knuckles on Aram's workstation to announce their arrival.

Samar hung up the phone and walked over, "Both of the men in the truck are still unconscious. The driver is still in surgery and the passenger suffered a lot of trauma to his head."

"Okay and how about the house? Any sign of the rest of the waitstaff?" Liz asked Aram, but he shook his head.

"Nothing. The property cameras were all taken out before it happened and there is no sign of the waitstaff at all. Did you guys get anything good at the party?"

"The wives," Liz spoke slowly, thinking through it again, "they were planning or discussing something before I walked into the kitchen with Daniela. Jill, Daniela's sister, she had a tablet in her hands." Liz remembered.

"None of the men talked business like that upstairs." Ressler noted, frowning.

"Because it's all the wives. They're all dirty, working for the Marchioness." Liz walked to the other side of Aram's workstation and began shuffling through the files.

"You don't think the husbands are in on it?" Samar asked, watching her dig through the papers.

"No. And I don't think the Marchioness had her kidnapped because of what they were doing. I think this could be much more personal than that." Liz finally found the file she was looking for, and walked back to Ressler, "That would be too much exposure, especially on a night like this." She shoved the file into Ressler's hands, "Here. Daniela mentioned to me earlier that she had a great-aunt that passed and Daniela inherited some heirlooms from her as the eldest daughter in her generation. I didn't pull it together until now, but the way she spoke to her sister, condescendingly, Jill didn't like that."

Understanding dawned on Ressler's face, "Jill's husband, Jeremy, George just got him a job at his firm after a scandal that recently rocked his previous employer."

But Aram was still confused, "But shouldn't he be grateful to George?"

Samar answered for Liz, "Not with these people. It's about status and success. That favor means that Jeremy is in debt to George, therefore Jill's status is still kept below her sister's. But it would explain why George was allowed to collaborate with them if they planned the kidnapping, as a kind of repayment."

"But why plan the kidnapping of his wife? Aren't they supposed to be some kind of power couple?" Ressler asked, but realization was beginning to dawn on Liz. She snatched a random file from Aram's desk (" _Wait, those are my plans for the annual Christmas party-"_ ) and was already hurrying back to the interrogation rooms, leaving Ressler baffled in her wake. He rushed after her, two steps behind her.

"What was it George? A gambling debt? Drugs? Money for your mistress?" Liz demanded, bursting into the room.

"I- what?"

Ressler entered the room behind her, closing the door firmly behind him but Liz didn't bother turning around to acknowledge his entry.

"We figured it out." Liz told him, slapping the file down onto the metal table. "You have a secret to hide from Daniela."

"You needed money, so you had your wife kidnapped so you could claim insurance on her." Ressler told him, walking around the table to stand behind Boyle. Liz regarded her partner proudly, _there you go, Donnie. I knew you'd catch up._

"So what was it?" Liz walked to Boyle's other side, placing her hands on the table and leaning closer to the man. "Work wasn't enough for you, so you decided to place some ill-advised, extra-curricular bets so you could get that thrill?" Liz leaned closer still, lowering her voice, "you didn't think Daniela was going to find out about this? You don't think she's gonna come back and slice your balls off in the middle of the night for betraying her like this?" She hissed in his ear, "You and I know Daniela, we both know that's exactly what she would do if you double crossed her."

Boyle jerked away from her, his eyes wide and Liz knew that he also could imagine that as a real contingency. "No, no- it wasn't me! It was all Jill, she masterminded it all- she wanted those damned jewels and Jeremy said- Jeremy-" Liz raised her head and threw a triumphant glance at Ressler over Boyle's head. He gave a conceding nod

"Who are the men that were driving the truck?" Ressler asked roughly, approaching the table from George's other side and George whipped his head around to the male agent.

"I don't know, I don't… Jeremy said he knew of a crew, I swear, I don't know, they just told me that I had to go with them to a truck and then they would let me go eventually."

"Okay, George, here's the deal. You're going to call Jill. You're going to tell her that your truck got into a high speed chase with the cops and now you're in the hospital and your assailants are being questioned by the police you're going to tell her to call it off and you're going to keep her on the phone long enough so we can run a trace." Liz told him sharply, sliding onto the table so she loomed over Boyle.

"I-I can't. Jill, she- you have no idea what she does, what she's really like." Boyle's hands shook, the confident and arrogant man completely gone. Liz eyed Ressler and she knew he came to the same conclusion that she did. _The Marchioness._

"We can talk about that later." Liz told him as Ressler walked to the door of the room, accepting the evidence bag from the guard.

Boyle looked up at her, then back to Ressler, "Wait so are you guys actually together or..?"

Ressler walked back to the table, taking the phone out of the evidence bag and slamming it on the table in from of George. "Make the call."

...

"What's on your mind, Keen?" Ressler asked as he sped down the canopied road towards the abandoned estate in Jill and Jeremy's neighborhood.

Liz turned to look at him, surprised, "What?"

"C'mon, I know when something is bothering you. What is it?"

Liz sighed and reluctantly voiced her thoughts, "That kiss, at the party-,"

Ressler gave a low chuckle, his eyes still fixed on the road, ever vigilant for more deer at the side of the road, "What, you didn't like it?" When Liz stayed quiet, he gave a small sigh, "We needed to make sure the Boyles believed we were just as strong a power couple as they were. Well, look where that got it." He scoffed.

"Right," Liz said, unconvinced, watching the HRT SUV in front of them.

"So was it a good kiss?" Ressler asked and Liz gave him a stern look before turning to look out the window, smiling to herself, knowing that Ressler had the same sly smile on his face. Before long, they pulled up at the abandoned estate, behind the HRT cars. There were no cars out front but a few lights were on inside the house. The first HRT team unloaded, handing Ressler an assault rifle before they got into position and breached the front, Ressler, Liz and Samar sandwiched in the middle while the second team went around the back.

"FBI! Hands- Let me see your hands!" HRT burst into the house, taking down the two armed men standing guard in the dimly lit foyer.

"Upstairs!" Ressler called and Samar claimed the basement as HRT cleared the foyer. Liz followed Ressler and two HRT agents up the staircase. The man standing guard at the front door dropped to his knees instantly at the sight of HRT and the first agent went to cuff him. Liz pressed herself to the wall next to Ressler as the second agent rolled in the flashbang and after the small explosion, the agents filed in and with a small nod from Ressler, Liz followed him inside.

"Down! Get down on your knees, now!" Guns were dropped on the ground by a few men dressed in the waiter uniform and the others dressed in all black like the driver of the van and the crew slowly flattened themselves down the ground while Ressler made a beeline for Jeremey, kneeling in the center of the room. But Liz had set her sights set on the balcony.

"Jill," Liz inched closer, next to the HRT agent positioned between the open French doors, his gun trained on the woman on the balcony, "Easy, Jill."

Jill had changed out of her gown into slacks and a blouse that was blowing lightly in the evening breeze as she stood defiantly on the balcony but the woman next to her was still in sparkling beige gown, the layers of tulle and satin rustling lightly in the open air, a black bag over her head. Jill held her by the elbow, in her other hand was a sall pistol, pointed directly at Daniela.

"Jill, that's you sister. I don't think you really want to do that." Liz warned her calmly, not lowering her own sidearm.

"You don't know anything," Jill sneered with a laugh, her own gun unwavering.

"I know that this isn't just about the heirloom jewels. I know about your operations. You're pretty clever, being able to hide such a big operation for so long." Liz said slowly, "We couldn't find anything on you."

Jill straightened up proudly, "Because they're not just my operations." She said smugly.

"The women in the kitchen?"

Daniela made a muffled sound of protest, and Jill shook her arm roughly, "Shut _up,_ bitch." She snarled, tightening her hold on her older sister.

"Jill, the wives? Are they all involved as well?" Liz prodded.

"They never knew the extent of it all. They just thought we were smuggling jewelry and antiques." Jill laugh maliciously, "as if that would ever earn us enough."

Liz shifted slightly and noticed Ressler on the other balcony from the room adjacent to the one they were standing in. He had traded his rifle for his sidearm which he held pointed at Jill. "Enough for what? What does Daniela have to do with all this?"

"Oh, you have no idea what it's like being raised under her shadow, under the charming little princess. She when Jeremy and I learned of his aunt's business, we knew we wanted a piece of it. The perfect way to settle the score with dear sister here, now I could manipulate her to do my own bidding."

"Where's his aunt now?"

"She's dead." Jill said offhandedly, uninterested in getting into that story, "We had her killed so we could take over. She was getting in the way. But when I found Daniela's little black book, I knew what we had to do next. It was never her charm that got her where she wanted to go. She holds all the scandals, all the secrets of everyone around here. And if she wasn't smart enough to see that she could make money off that, then I will. Jeremy and I, we're going to own everyone.

"Oh, but _then,_ " Jilly giggled and pressed the gun into to her sister's side, leaning towards the black bag to speak into her sister's ear, "I found the best secret of all." She whispered, "Turns out George has this little _weakness_ at the country club. It was easy enough to get her to lure him upstairs, and then to blackmail him afterwards. And of course, he complied! George loves you too much to shatter your perfect little illusion." Jill crooned to Daniela, who let out a muffled moan.

"Jill, I don't believe you came here to kill your sister." Liz reasoned as Jill backed up so their backs were pressed up to the edge of the iron railing, "You're surrounded. The second you shoot, we'll have to take you down as well. You need to think, here. Drop the gun and we can discuss a deal."

Jill paused, narrowing her eyes at Liz. "Fine." She conceded, lowering her pistol. "But we won't need her for that." She said flippantly and she jerked her sister backwards.

"No!"

Two shots rang out and Jill crumpled to the ground. Liz lunged forward, holstering her gun with one hand, and grabbing at Daniela's toppling form with the other, catching her by the gown as the woman screamed and sobbed hysterically.

"Liz!" Ressler shouted as momentum pulled Liz and Daniela forward. The HRT agent grabbed onto Liz, trying to pull her back onto the ground as another team member grasped onto Daniela.

Two strong hands fastened around Liz's shoulders and helped pull her over the railing and back onto her feet as the two HRT agents escorted a sobbing Daniela inside, taking off the bag on her head once her back was turned to the balcony.

"She's alive, sir." Another agent confirmed, crouching next to Jill.

"Good. Get her down to the ambulance." Ressler told him before turning to Liz, "You good?" He squeezed her arms and Liz nodded, still trying to catch her breath, meeting his concerned eyes.

"Hey, you guys gotta see this." Samar's voice crackled over the radio, pulling them out of their moment.

"Thanks, I'm good." Liz assured Ressler, patting him on his chest and he finally released her.

"For a second there, I thought was it." He admitted, leading the way out of the room.

"Head first onto a stone patio, clutching a handful of ballgown?" Liz snorted, "No thanks. Besides, I'm used to having save my life so don't tell me you're going to give up that job now."

Ressler flashed her a grin over his shoulder, "Never. But, you better call Reddington and update him before he comes barging in here."

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 **Whew! That was a long one. I got started and I couldn't really stop… I love and appreciate reviews so make sure to drop some down below if you have a chance! Until next time~**


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